


Vestige

by GulJeri



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassia rebuild, M/M, Mpreg, Nonbinary Character, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5408249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GulJeri/pseuds/GulJeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>vestige<br/>noun ves·tige \ˈves-tij\<br/>: the last small part that remains of something that existed before</p><p>Out of the vestige of what remains of Cardassia, of what remains of Elim Garak, new life will come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: post-war Cardassia, plague, death (no major characters), m/m somewhat explicit, nonbinary character, mpreg.

 

-x-

_Deep Space 9_

_Chamber 901_

_Habitat Level H-3_

 

Julian was taking a rare day off, and lounging about Garak's sparsely decorated quarters, with his long legs hooked over one arm of the sofa, and his head propped up on the other. He was reading something on his PADD, and judging by the deepening crease between his eyebrows, he was concentrating very hard on it--though given his enhancements, he was likely reading through whatever-it-was at a pace that even Garak's sharp mind could never match.

The shop was closed that day, as Garak had anticipated Julian's day off--which meant he knew about it in advance because he had hacked into Julian's schedule to peruse it and arrange times for them to 'accidentally' bump into one another.

Even though they were close enough that Garak didn't have to arrange such meetings any longer, he still enjoyed doing it, just to keep a leg up on his friend, and to play his games, he supposed. After all, what else did he have to amuse himself with? But Julian was wonderful such amusement.

Garak settled down into a chair across from Julian, wrapping his gray hands around a mug of red leaf tea, and letting the steam waft up and warm his face.

He was obviously enjoying the comfort of the warm steam, as his eyes were half-lidded. After a few moments of indulging, Garak took a sip of his tea, then tilted his head at his doctor, who had made a peculiar little grunting noise at his PADD.

"My dear, what are you reading? Is it that off putting?"

Julian tipped his head back, then to the side, and lazily regarded Garak with those impossibly large, green, eyes.

"A medical dissertation on vestigial structures," Julian said.

Garak's eyes grew a bit wider, a sure sign that his interest had been piqued.

"Really? How fascinating," Garak said, pausing for another sip, "do humans have any vestigial structures?"

"We do. The appendix, for one. It's a very tiny pouch hooked to the end of the cecum, near the join with the ilium. It seems to serve no purpose but to become infected and require surgical removal," Julian said, "the plica semilunari is another, this little bit of tissue at the corner of the eye," Julian said, pausing to bat his own long, inky, lashes playfully at Garak.

"That's the vestigial remains of our third eyelid--which Cardassians still possess," Julian said, as Garak demonstrated this efficiently, as a thin membrane slid from the corner of his eye, to cover the entire thing, giving Garak's eyes a rather milky look as he watched Julian through the protective sheath.

To anyone else it would look particularly creepy. In fact, this was how Garak had gotten a confession from Kelas Parmak, by staring at him for hours through the third eyelids.

But Garak had remembered when Julian had first noticed his third eyelids, and his doctor had found them fascinating rather than creepy.

"The male papilla are another example," Julian said, "they're rather useless," he said.

"They're not at all useless," Garak said, retracting his third eyelids, and peering at Julian, "at least you seem to find it quite pleasurable when I pay attention to them...and I find them lovely, especially when erect..." Garak continued.

The corners of Julian's lips twitched fondly.

"Yes... there is that..." he said, "and there are a few more, but I shouldn't wish to bore you," Julian said, shifting into a sitting position, and placing his PADD aside, "do Cardassians have any vestigial structures?"

A slow smile stretched Garak's lips.

"Actually, I've been meaning to show you something for some time now," Garak said.

"Oh?" Julian's eyebrows hiked up as he wondered what Garak would surprise him with now.

Garak rose slowly from his chair, like a stretching cat, and drew one gray finger along the thick ridge of scales that decorated the right side of his neck.

"You'll need to get me out of these stuffy clothes first, my dear," Garak said, eyes glittering at Julian, who was up off of the sofa in a flash.

"You needn't tell me twice," Julian purred, sliding his hand around the back of Garak's tunic to hunt for a hidden zipper. The one he was wearing couldn't be tugged off over his head, the collar was much too high for that.

"How long have we been doing this, and you still can't puzzle out how to dismantle my clothing?" Garak teased, as Julian struggled to find a zipper or clasp.

With a bit of work, Garak removed the high neck pieces, showing Julian how the collar came apart so he could actually wear it in multiple tunics if he was feeling the desire to be particularly modest. After that was done with Julian wasted no time in sliding the tunic up and over Garak's head, which mussed his perfect raven hair deliciously.

"Mmm," Julian hummed, slowing down to admire Garak's bare torso.

So much of Garak was always covered up and hidden that Julian always took great care in drinking it all in when he got to see it uncovered.

Garak's shoulders and chest were thickly muscled. His neck ridges extended down his arms form into a roundish patch of scales that interlocked flexibly over the backs of his elbows. Small little ridges adorned his collar bones, and where they met was a small, second spoon, which Julian kissed tenderly.

The thick layered scales from his back wrapped around to hug Garak's sides, leaving his belly smooth, and squishy, a bit of evidence of Garak's love of sweets, and annoyance with a job which kept him sitting all day. It didn't metter to Julian who thoroughly admired the build of Garak's body.

Despite his genetic enhancements he'd always been rather slender himself, and especially self-conscious of his spindly legs. Garak, in that regards, was quite opposite him. While his thighs, for example, were lean and tapered, Garak's were thicker, and more rounded; perfect for Julian to squeeze and bite.

Garak gave a purr of delight as Julian lapped at his chest spoon, but he made him stop long enough to get the doctor's shirt off too.

There were those cute little nipples, which Julian had said were 'vestigial' remains, as though they served no function. But when Garak pinched one of them, Julian made the most lovely noise, and his eyes darkened a bit.

"They really are quite useful," Garak purred, gently teasing the other nub with his thumb until it was hardened.

"But what's yours?" Julian asked, as he straddled Garak's thigh, and rubbed a hand over his wide chest, "you don't have any nipples," Julian said.

"No, you'll have to explore down a bit further. I'm... really surprised you've never run into it before. I admit it is well hidden, but we have been rather thorough in our investigations of each others bodies," Garak said.

"I don't see how I could have missed anything," Julian frowned, sliding his hands down to undo Garak's pants and slip them down, so his lizard friend could step out of them.

Once that was done, and Julian's pants lay with Garak's on the floor, Julian rested his hands on the thick ridges that decorated Garak's hips.

"I do so love all of your beautiful decorations," Julian said, giving the hip ridges a squeeze, "and you know, I was quite pleasantly surprised the first time I saw you nude, and got to see this beautiful coloring you keep hidden away," Julian said, dragging one hand up Garak's side.

The scales that wrapped around the sides of Garak's torso were a bright, vibrant, blue, that faded out as they reached the hip ridges.

"Absolutely stunning," Julian said, locking his gaze with Garak's.

Garak had explained to Julian that most Cardassians did not have this blue coloration, but that it was a hold-over from earlier days, when Cardassians with blue sides had been born more frequently. Blue had been a sacred color to the Cardassian's ancestors, the Hebitians, which explained why they wore blue body and scale paint, and why hatchlings who were born with blue scale coloration were held in special regard.

That had been a long time ago, however, and now a Cardassian with such coloration was merely seen as an abnormality.

Garak had been quite embarrassed by it for years, and it was really only how beautiful Julian seemed to find it, that had Garak rethinking his own thoughts about that particular physical aspect of himself.

Julian continued to slide his long, adept, fingers up and down Garak's gorgeous blue scales, then he pressed their bodies firmly together. Garak reached around to cup Julian's bottom, one side in each hand.

"Hm, I can't imagine what it could be..." Julian said, as he slid down to his knees and continued his exploration, "I'm half-inclined to think you're lying, and that this is just some sort of game you're playing. But... if it is, then it's a game I'm enjoying," Julian said, as he took Garak's length in hand, already everted from his genital slit.

He let his tongue graze over the tip as he slid a hand along the inside of one of Garak's thighs, then unable to help himself, he nipped and bit at one of them. Garak still had fresh bruises on the opposite thigh, and yellowing ones on the one that Julian was bothering just then. Biting them was obviously something that the doctor enjoyed.

Garak wrapped his hand in Julian's hair, encouraging him. It was Garak who had first urged Julian to bite him during sex, as he had explained it was quite common for Cardassians to do, and it felt especially wonderful if done just right along some of the thicker ridges.

There weren't any ridges on the insides of Garak's thighs--that had just seemed to be something Julian had developed on his own, finding that area to be a place he liked to bite.

The doctor tilted his head up and nuzzled his face against Garak's erection, as Garak gasped with pleasure, and Julian's fingers soothed gently over the new teeth marks imbedded into Garak's soft flesh.

"It's not this," Julian said, placing a kiss to the slick shaft, "not these either," he said, pressing his fingers against the bulge just behind Garak's purse where his testicles were hidden beneath smooth skin.

"Put your fingers into my purse," Garak hissed.

Julian moved his fingers to try and find what he was supposed to be looking for, and drew another gasp from Garak.

"Right there, oh--"

"What? But I don't--" Julian pushed Hus fingers up finding a spot in the purse that seemed to open for him.

He rubbed the opening a bit more, drawing more sounds of pleasure from Garak, and then pressed further.

"Oh!" Julian said in surprise, "this is a vestigial structure?" It felt to Julian like a narrow vaginal opening.

"It isss," Garak hissed, "and that feels _very_ good, my dear," he said, hoping the doctor would continue to explore that part of him.

"I... hope this isn't offensive," Julian said, as he curiously prodded and probed, "but... is this a vaginal opening? It's self-lubricating, it's situated in nearly the same place as it would be on a female, and it's... obviously very sensitive and stimulated by touch."

"Yes," Garak said, "and I see no reason why I should be offended by my own body," Garak said, "but can't I explain it to you... later?" Garak growled, tugging at Julian's hair, and pushing his face up against his arousal.

"A very good idea," Julian said.

They migrated to Garak's bedroom, and after more playing with this new found bit of Garak, Garak asked Julian to fuck him there. The doctor seemed eager to comply, and after a few rounds, they were both spent and thoroughly pleased, curled in each others arms.

Julian rested his head against Garak's chest.

"So tell me about your vagina, Garak," Julian said, as though asking him about the weather.

"Ancient Cardassians were born intersex," Garak said, "a hatchling would have ambiguous genitalia which could form into male, or female, at sexual maturation, based upon the needs of the society. Cardassians are rarely born that way any longer," Garak said, "but some, as myself, are born with fully developed male organs, along with a vestigial vagina," Garak explained, "it does nothing of importance, it doesn't lead to any sort of womb, or come in handy for reproduction, but it is quite a lot of fun," Garak said, and smirked slowly at his dear doctor.

"I'll have to agree with you there," Julian said, "but that's fascinating. Then, do you consider yourself male?"

"I present myself as male, though perhaps not the typical Cardassian stereotype," Garak said, considering that upon more than one occassion, he had been characterized by others with words such as 'flamboyant', or 'effeminate', "though I've never really found any sort of label to be necessary in defining who I am, I appear outwardly to be a typical Cardassian male, therefore, it is what I chose to identify as, simply because one must identify as something, I suppose. But I don't feel it makes any difference--how would I be different if I was to identify as a female? Or a combination of male, and female--or neither at all? I would still be... just..."

"Plain, simple, Garak," Julian supplied.

"Exactly," Garak agreed.

-x-

 

 

 

 

 

_-x-_

_Cardassia Prime_

_Cardassia City_

_Tenement Camp 013_

 

Garak had not been away from Deep Space Nine long before the plague had began. This on the heels of the wars end, and the infant beginnings of rebuilding. If there was anything Cardassia didn't need, it was more disaster, and more death.

The word of the plague had extended to Deep Space Nine, and Julian, whose Starfleet career was on the verge of ending anyway (due to his uncovering and bringing down Section 31), had decided without even having to think it over, that Cardassia was where he needed to be.

Garak had been shocked to see his doctor weaving through the debris towards him, and he had been certain that his dear Julian was no more than a hallucination. Garak's mental state had been increasingly fragile, and he had had multiple hallucinations since coming home to (what was left of) Cardassia.

Kelas Parmak had been supplying him with medication to keep them under control as he worked, but apparently, this day the drug was failing him.

"Garak," Julian placed a hand on his shoulder, "it's really me," he said, and explained to Garak why he was there.

Julian had not been prepared for Garak to nearly collapse, sobbing, into his arms.

Cardassia was in a far more terrible state than the doctor could have imagined. He rubbed Garak's back soothingly, as he looked around at the complete destruction around him.

There was still debris and rubble everywhere, in great piles, and heaps. Sections of the city were roped off, unsafe, unstable, feared that they would collapse. Great sinkholes had opened up in various parts of the city and swallowed up what was left behind. The water supply was full of debris and toxins, leaving Cardassians to create filtering systems for rainwater, which left water for all in short supply.

Water, along with food, was rationed, and no one was getting enough of anything. Mothers did without so their children could eat. Sons gave up their rations to their elderly parents. Children died in the streets. The old withered. At the outskirts of the city was where bodies were taken to piled into mass graves. Luckily the environment on Cardassia tended to dry out and mummify corpses rather quickly, or else the smell of decaying bodies would have been added to the smell of feces, urine, and sickness.

Garak's eyes were haunted when he finally pulled back to look at Julian. His doctor's hair was a bit longer, quite curly, and a scruff of black grew along his jaw, chin, and upper lip. Garak had always found Julian's mammalian fur bits quite attractive, but now such thoughts were far from his fractured mind.

"Garak," Julian said slowly, "I don't like the way you're looking. I'm certain you've been overworking yourself--I know how you are--I think you should rest," he said.

"Rest? Look around you, doctor. Cardassia has no time for rest if she is to rise up out of this squalor," he said, motioning at the filth around them.

"You can't help anyone, not even Cardassia, if you're dead," Julian said sternly.

Garak laughed bitterly.

"I may wish I was before this is all over," Garak said darkly, pressing forward, through the middle of the camp.

Julian followed him, and they moved past the middle of the camp where Cardassians were huddling around a fire to cook voles and small animals that had been caught in makeshift traps. A few were so hungry they seemed to be eating the animals raw, just biting in, and tearing out bloody hunks of flesh. Some Cardassians were laying on the ground, wrapped up in rags, either sick, too weak to move, in emotional despair, or mourning.

Julian knelt next to one of them, and old man with knotted, dirty, white hair. The once strong Cardassian form was wasted away. The irony that he looked as bad off as a Bajoran refuge was not lost on Julian.

The doctor looked up to Garak.

"Isn't there a medical tent? Or quarantine? There must be somewhere for the sick to go. Cardassians are too intelligent to leave the sick lying around," Julian said.

"There are such tents, one at the edge of each encampment, and there are twenty such camps in Cardassia city. Every quarantine tent is overflowing, so there's nowhere left for the sick to go, but to the streets," Garak said, "or what's left of them."

Julian frowned deeply as he used his medical tricorder to examine the old man.

"He's not ill, he's just starving to death," Julian said.

He pulled out a package of Starfleet rations, and began to open it for the old man, when he noticed a little boy hovering nearby.

He was filthy from head to toe, and was leaning on a stick, the end of it beneath his arm wrapped up with dirty clothe. One of his legs was missing, just a small stump remained below the hip. He was scrawny, and his eyes were dark, and seemed almost feral, as he stared Julian down and reached one hand out for the food.

Garak simply watched the exchange, knowing how much this must have been killing his dear friend inside to make such a choice. There wasn't enough to do any good should he split the rations between the old man and the child. It would be better off to chose one.

Julian took several moments, his eyes never leaving the child, as the wrapping from the ration bar crunched lightly in his hand. He finally turned to the old man.

"I'm sorry..." Julian said, and offered the ration bar out to the child.

The boy hobbled forward on his crutch and grabbed the rations bar, eating half of it down greedily, then pausing to debate whether or not to eat the rest or save it. Self-preservation won out over greed, and before looking around to make sure no one else noticed what he had, he hid away the rest of the bar beneath his ragged tunic.

Julian rose to his feet, his eyes now looking just as haunted as Garak's.

Julian lifted his medical equipment, and tucked it under his arms.

They were Starfleet issue, but Julian was no longer wearing a Starfleet uniform. Garak could only assume that his dear doctor had stolen the medical items, knowing how desperately Cardassia needed some sort of attention.

That made him rather proud of his friend, and he gave Julian the barest smile.

"Show me to the quarantine tent," Julian said, settling a determined, unmovable, expression onto his face.

"This way," Garak said, gesturing in a rather graceful manner, which seemed extremely out of place among their surroundings, "I'm very glad you've come," Garak said, as they walked towards the quarantine tent.

He glanced over again to take in that look of stalwart determination upon Julian's face.

Somehow it made Garak feel as though there just might be some shred of hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: blood, skin picking.

"Garak," Julian called groggily, from the darkness of the tiny tent they were sharing.

Garak was pacing outside the opening, mumbling to himself, his bare feet quiet on the sand.

Julian sat himself up on his elbows and peered into the darkness. His heightened senses allowed him better night vision than most humans, so he could see Garak clearly, and he could hear his muttering fairly well also. Garak's muttering didn't make much sense though, as it came out in an odd mix of Cardăsda and Standard.

"Garak, what are you doing? Come to bed," Julian said.

Even for someone who was genetically enhanced, his day had been draining. Julian had spent his day in Camp 013's quarantine tent, working to make patients comfortable, taking samples, running tests, and losing the battle as six Cardassians lost their lives in 'his' tent that day. The Cardassians who were charged with removing the dead bodies seemed just as dead. Their faces and eyes were blank as they hurriedly carted out the dead to fill the six empty beds with other patients.

Had Julian not been so wiped, his thoughts would have had him awake, and pacing alongside Garak.

He couldn't help but recall the Blight; how arrogant he had been. He had certainly grown through that experiences, and the ones to follow, and he was no longer the niave young man he had been. He still trusted his skills, and his wits, but he knew better than to be so prideful. He wanted to stand tall and make a big rousing speech about how he would cure Cardassia of this vile plague, but one plague beneath his belt, and a war later, he knew now the price of such brashness, and he had learned to temper his self-confidence with humbleness.

He wouldn't promise the downtrodden, dying, Cardassians something just because he wanted to be a hero.

As Julian mulled these things over in his sleepy head, he of course took note that Garak had not stopped pacing, nor had he stopped muttering, and he hadn't even acknowledged that Julian had said anything at all.

Julian had not seen Garak this agitated since he'd been coming down from the heightened endorphin levels that abuse of his cranial implant had caused.

Julian rose and ducked outside.

He noted that the sandy ground was hard packed in front of Garak's tent, as though he had spent many nights pacing this way. Julian reached out and gently grabbed Garak's shoulders.

"Come to bed," Julian said.

"I'm not tired," Garak said, but everything, including the tone of his voice, which was nothing near the cool, controlled, tones that Julian was used to, told the doctor otherwise.

"You're exhausted," Julian said, "what are you doing out here anyway?"

"Cardassians are fierce creatures, my dear. Esspecially--" Garak hissed, "when we're backed into very tight corners, reduced to ssscratching and clawing for our survival!"

The hissing was troubling as well. Garak didn't hiss often, usually when he was very emotional, or unwell.

Julian frowned.

"There are looters at night," Garak explained, "some have banded together, and will drag people out of their tents at night, and take what little any of us has to call our own--even the clothes from our backs."

"And when have you last slept?" Julian prodded, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

Garak's eyes looked unfocused as he thought about the question.

"Last night, a few hours," he said, having taken far too long to consider his answer for that to be the truth, "I'm fine."

"You don't remember, do you?" Julian challenged.

He took Garak's hands in his, worried when he felt them trembling.

"I'll sit up for a bit and make sure no one bothers our tent," Julian said gently, "if you'll get some rest. Please," he linked his fingers with Garak's, full aware of how intimate such a thing was in Cardassian culture.

To Julian's relief, Garak allowed the doctor to lead him into the tent, and Garak curled up on palette of cardboard and dirty cloth.

Julian sat just outside the tent flap where he could look in on Garak ever so often. Garak had fallen asleep as soon as he'd settled down, and was sleeping hard, snoring loudly. Judging by the way he looked, and his mental state, it had probably been days sense he had gotten any real, useful, amount of rest.

Looking out over the night that had fallen over Camp 013, Julian couldn't help but feel dismal, as his eyes picked out the shapes of bodies, all sizes, sleeping out in the open on the bare ground. Some of them would probably be dead by morning. Despite the heat during the day, Cardassia cooled considerably at night, and a Cardassians body would likely soak up the cold that settled into the ground--and a cold reptile was a sick reptile, slow, and sleepy, and prone to problems.

Julian looked back to Garak worriedly, wishing he could scrounge up a blanket for him, at least.

He sat up for several more hours, just watching shapes move in the darkness, and trying not to take in the smells of filth and decay around him.

At one point he noted a small, furred, animal messing with someone who was sleeping too deeply to notice. Julian crept over, and picked up a rock, and tossed it to scare the animal away. It did scurry away, but with a piece of something in its mouth.

When Julian moved closer, he could see that the person was a young woman, and she was dead. The animal had gnawed her belly open, and her insides were spilling out of her.

Julian felt sick to his stomach.

He couldn't leave the girl out in the open like this, for the others to discover her gruesome fate in the morning, so he used one hand to slide her organs back inside, and then lifted her up into his arms.

He walked to the edge of the city where the mass graves were located, knelt, and placed her down atop countless others.

From within the piles of bodies, small animals, and large bugs, scrambled around and made dead things undulate and move in unnatural ways. A beam of moonlight slid silver fingers across the face of a dead Cardassian, his eye sockets hollowed out, with a swarm of fat beetles crawling in and out, and some sort of rodent gnawing at his spoon.

Julian felt numb as he headed back to camp, his clothing stained with blood from the girl. Instead of settling back down to keep watch, he ducked back inside the tent. He wasn't going to allow Garak to become ill, despite the Cardassian's tendency not to take proper care of himself.

He settled in behind Garak, spooning him, giving up his body heat to his dear friend. He pressed a small kiss to the back of Garak's neck which felt cool to his lips, then slid his arm around him, and slid his hand beneath Garak's dingy tunic, to rest against his belly.

He could feel Garak breathing that way, and based on look and feel, Julian began to calculate how much weight Garak had lost. His face had been obviously thinner when Julian had first seen him again; no more round cheeks, no more soft bit beneath his chin. His waist felt thinner too, Julian noted, as he curled his arm more tightly around his companion, feeling more protective of him than ever.

Julian couldn't keep from feeling helpless as he lay there in the darkness, holding Garak, nuzzling his nose into Garak's long, dirty, hair. It was terrible to see Garak thin, untidy, and barely clinging to his mental facilities. _All_ of it was terrible. He only wished that he still had his Starfleet connections, perhaps he could secure some aide for these people, but knowing the stubbornness of Cardassians, they would likely reject any Federation aide.

Even when he had been working to comfort and help those in the quarantine tent, many had seemed wary of him for his unadorned features, and some had refused to let him touch them outright, as they hacked up dark blood that spilled over their ridged chins and smooth throats.

Garak slept so deeply that he didn't even stir when the sun rose, spilling orange tendrils of morning through the tent flap. Julian did, and he stretched his long limbs languidly. When Garak, who was always on guard, didn't move a muscle, a surge of panic twisted in Julian's chest. He rested his hand against Garak's chest to make sure he was still breathing, and sighed in relief when he was.

He slipped out of the tent to stand in line for morning rations. They wouldn't give him an extra for Garak--if someone wasn't awake and in line before the rations ran out, then that was just too bad.

Julian brought the cup of broth into the tent, and shook Garak to wake him.

Once his lizard was awake, Julian pushed the cup of broth into his hands, and made sure that he drank all of it, as he sat behind Garak and fussed over removing bits of debris and knots from his hair.

It was no longer smooth, and perfectly combed back. It was growing long, and it was dried out, and was growing frizzy little curls at the ends.

Julian began to play with a few of those, wrapping them around his slender fingers.

"Cardassian males don't generally get curly hair," Garak commented.

"Hair can change texture, or color, based on many things," Julian said, "you're not eating enough, your body chemistry may be imbalanced, both things which can affect the way hair grows," Julian said.

"Hm," Garak placed his empty paper cup aside, "it's becoming a strange feeling to have food, doctor," Garak said, "I don't feel hungry anymore. For a long while, oh, it was terrible to feel hungry constantly. The gnawing sensation is still there, down deep, it never leaves. But it's as though my mind has ceased being able to interpret the incessant feeling into anything meaningful."

Julian frowned deeply.

"That's never a good sign, Garak," he said, "you need to keep eating--anything you can get a hold of," Julian said, "you're dehydrated, too."

"How very observant," Garak said, snappishly.

Everyone was starving, and dehydrated, it didn't take a medical degree to notice that much, and Julian knew that. He was just worried for his friend. Even Garak's skin tone looked different, a bit more brownish than usual.

He wanted to stay and hold Garak for a bit, but he knew that he needed to get back to his work, and figure out how to get the plague under control.

Garak seemed to be sharing similar thoughts, as he rose, and then ducked out of the tent.

One of the groups for debris removal was gathering, readying themselves for their work day, and Garak went to join them.

Julian didn't like that they were to spend the entire day apart, where he couldn't hover near to Garak to make sure he was stopping to rest, or getting his midday food ration, or all of his water rations. But even Julian was too busy by midday to continue dwelling on such thoughts.

Four more quarantined Cardassians had died during the night, and Julian needed to decode the illness and work to treat it. So far predictions indicated that at the rate it was going, the plague would kill more Cardassians than the war had.

That was not going to happen so long as Julian Bashir had anything to say about it.

-x-

Julian wove his way through cots and palettes that barely had space for him to get in between them.

The plague that was tearing through Cardassia was ugly, vile, and it could kill within weeks, depending upon varying factors such as general health, age, etc.

By the time the sun had risen higher, and Cardassians were lining up for evening meal, Julian had been working non-stop for hours. Through the heat of the day he'd stripped down until his torso was bare, brown, and glistening with sweat. It was quite immodest by Cardassian standards, but given the more pressing issues, few were making a fuss about one humans' half-naked body.

Julian stepped out of the tent for a brief moment, just to get some air, and he wiped a film of sweat from his brow. He had wrapped his shirt around his head like a turban to keep the sweat from pouring down from his hairline and into his eyes as he'd worked, but after the relentless midday heat had baked the insides of the quarantine tent, his headdress did no good to him. It was soaked through.

He took it off and was astonished when he could literally wring sweat from the fabric. His hair was completely saturated, as though he'd been caught in a monsoon, the dark curly bits were plastered to his ears and forehead.

He watched the food line form longer, snaking around, full of weary, dirty, slump-shouldered Cardassians.

Suddenly someone was screaming, and there was a commotion at one spot in the line, near the front.

Julian rushed over to see what was going on.

"He won't stop scratching!" a very pregnant woman yelled, as she fought with an adult man, who was likely her husband, "make him stop it! Make it stop!"

Uncontrollable scratching was the first sign of the plague, but it was also a sign of scale mites, which was common given the unsanitary conditions.

Julian managed to get the couple out of the line, and gently moved the man's hands away from his face, which he had been clawing at.

Once his hands were away all Julian could see was a mask of dark blood.

A lump of spoon-shaped flesh, bloody, and glistening, was cupped in one of the mans hands. With his free hand he reached up and dug his dirty, ragged, fingernails into one of his forehead ridges. The sound was disgusting, a faint popping as the nails broke through the tough hide, and a squishy squelchy sound as they dug into the softer flesh beneath and released blood. Julian's eyes widened in horror.

The man had literally clawed his chufa off of his forehead, and was trying to claw his ridges off too.

Several of his neck scales were missing too, and not from shedding, they were open wounds that he had made himself.

"Stop clawing, I'll help you, just stop clawing--you're going to make it worse," Julian said, trying to keep his voice calm, and soothing, as the woman cried and hid her face so she didn't have to see her husband tearing his face apart.

While Julian scanned him quickly, the man began to chew and bite at his fingers, drawing more blood.

The scan showed that he was infested with scale mites, and some scales were infected. But that was the least of this mans problems. He also had the plague.

He scanned the woman too, and sighed in relief when his tricorder showed that she was well, aside from being dehydrated and malnourished.

"I... I'm afraid I must take your husband to quarantine," Julian said.

The woman began shrieking again, and clawed at Julian's arms, then sank to the ground and cried into the sand.

Julian was forced to half-drag the man, gripping his bloody hands so he wouldn't claw anymore of himself.

Once inside the tent he realized there were no open areas for this man. But he did notice a cot containing a very small child. Putting them close together would make no difference in the plagues progression in either of them, so after kindly urging the little child to move over, there managed to be enough room for the man to share the cot.

His new patient began to sob, a sound of utter despair, and desolation, as Julian used his own sweaty shirt (the one which had been tied around his head moments ago), to stop the bleeding from his chufa and ridges, and clean his face a bit.

"I won't see my child," the man moaned, sobbing it again, and again, and again.

"What's your name?" Julian asked, taking firmly ahold of the mans' hand, but minding not to squeeze the parts he'd been biting.

"Yebek," the man croaked, "but it does not matter."

"Yebek," Julian said, "don't give up. You may see your child yet," he said.

It wasn't a promise--it couldn't be. But how badly Julian wanted it to be.

He gave Yebek a hypo to the neck to make him more comfortable, and after he'd settled down, he went back out to see about his wife.

She was still curled up in the sand. No one had stepped out of line to help her, no one dared give up their spot, as there was no promise that food and water wouldn't run out before the end, even with the rations as sparse as they were.

Julian helped her into a sitting position, and knelt beside her.

"I've made Yebek comfortable," he said soothingly.

The woman sniffled, and tried to push some of her hair out of her face, but it just fell back over the one side.

"Th-thank you," she said, struggling to stop her weeping.

"I've some good news," Julian said, hoping to ease her a bit in some way.

"Good news? What good new can you have for us? The plague has been cured?"

She peered up from the shadows of her brow ridges, her eyes blue, and bright, behind tears.

"No, not yet," Julian said, "it's your baby. He looks healthy, so far."

"He does?" the woman almost smiled, " _he_ ," she repeated, realizing the doctor had just told her the gender of her child.

"Did you and your husband have any names yet?" Julian asked.

She nodded.

"If it was a boy, we were going to name him Damar," she said, "of course, every expectant mother on Cardassia will probably have the same idea if they have sons," she said, "he was... such a hero for us all..." she sniffled.

"Damar is a wonderful name," he said.

Julian walked the woman, whose name he had found out was Almara, to the front of the food line.

"Please, she was in line, but her husband was ill," Julian said.

There were several Cardassians serving something that hardly looked like food, and water. The people in line carried paper cups that had been issued to them, or broken bits of pottery from the rubble. An old woman at the front of the line had nothing at all, and simply cupped her hands, and let them be filled with cool water. She drank from them immediately, trying her best not to spill one precious drop, but her hands were old and trembling. Julian's heart knotted in his chest.

"Back of the line," groused a man who was serving.

"But she's pregnant!" Julian insisted, as though it wasn't noticeable just by look at her.

"Back of the line!" the man shouted.

He noticed Garak in line, just a few people back, and gave his friend a rather defeated look. Garak gave him a small nod.

Julian and Almara waited on the sidelines until Garak had gotten his cup of water, and his ration of food for the evening meal, and he brought it over and handed both items to Almara.

"Thank you," she said hurriedly, before lifting the cup to her lips and drinking eagerly.

Julian reached out to brushed his fingertips across the back of Garak's hand, and the two began to move away, leaving Almara to her food and water. After they'd gotten a few steps away, Julian turned to his friend.

"That was quite kind of you--selfless, really, to give up your own food and water for her," Julian said.

"For her? My dear, I didn't give it for her. I gave it for Cardassia," Garak said, "our population is dying out. Any person who is expecting a child in these times is a thing to be treasured, and protected, if Cardassia is to have any hope of a future at all," he said.

Julian nodded grimly.

"Aren't you going to get in line, doctor?" Garak asked.

Julian glanced over his shoulder. He wouldn't even see the end of the line from there.

"Is it worth it, do you think?" he asked.

Garak shook his head.

"No, I'm afraid not. The line is quite long now, and they'll run out before they get to the people at the very back. There's never enough," Garak said, "rations or not."

Garak seemed to be leading them somewhere, so Julian followed.

Outside the camp Garak knelt to check some traps. There was fresh blood on them, but whatever had fallen victim to the traps, had already been taken.

"Traps do no good when others raid them first," Garak grumbled, moving himself towards a very large, flat, rock, which was half submerged into the ground, "I'll have to find better hiding places for them."

He sprawled out onto the stone, eyes squinting up at the gray sky.

Julian sat down next to him, managing somehow to fold his long legs up neatly.

He frowned as he noted, even through Garak's clothing, how tense and knotted his muscles were. He reached forward and began to rub one of Garak's arms, slowly working his fingers into the knots, in nice, firm, circular motions.

"You really shouldn't do that, doctor," Garak said.

"Why not?"

Garak puffed a breath through his nose, a sign he was irritated.

"It seems wrong to have any small pleasure now," he said, "no matter how much I do enjoy your expert hands."

"Nonsense," Julian said, "if there's ever a time when people should be kind to one another, it's now."

Julian turned Garak's arm, and moved down to his palm. Even his hands were full of tension.

Suddenly, with lightening-quick reflexes, Garak grabbed for something. It happened so quickly that Julian was shocked by it. He blinked several times, then started with wide, hazel, eyes.

"What's that, Garak?"

Garak sat up, holding onto something, and cautiously opened his hands just a bit. Peering inside Julian could see a fat brown lizard. It was large enough to fill both of Garak's hands easily, with the long tail hanging out the back, and swishing back and forth in agitation at having been caught.

"I didn't even see anything move," Julian said, quite impressed with Garak's relefexes.

"You wouldn't have, my dear. Regnars are seldom caught. They have an incredible ability to camouflage themselves, and they hardly move unless the wind or shadow can conceal their displacement. They're so good at what they do, that they're nearly invisible. Furthermore, they're usually found exclusively in the Mekar Wilderness. I suppose seeing one this near to Cardassia City only goes to show how out of balance our very environment has become after the ravages of war, and disease," Garak said.

"What do you plan to do with it?" Julian asked, watching the tail whip back and forth.

"I kept one of these once as a pet," Garak said, "I called it 'Mila', after my mother. She was a gift for my coming of age," Garak said, "my mother had saved up for quite some time to purchase such a pet. As I said, regnars are not easily captured. I was a lonely boy, and she thought it was important I have a companion, at such a... difficult age," he said.

Julian got the impression that Garak was telling one of his half-truths here, but he didn't question him on it.

"This one is quite fat," Garak said, "I think I'll call him... Tain."

With another quick motion, Garak broke the lizards neck with a snap.

"If you ask nicely, I'll share him with you."

Julian gathered a few dead things and made a small fire. Garak used a knife he kept on him to sharpen a stick, then skewered the dead lizard with it so it could be roasted.

As the sun went down over the ravaged ruins of Cardassia city, as the ragged tents cast long shadows onto the sand, Garak and Julian sat just outside Camp 013, and shared a small meal, provided to them by Tain himself.

-x-


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: gore/blood.

 

 

Garak and Julian were spread out on the large,  flat ,  rock outside camp 013 as the sun began to slide down towards the horizon. The sky streaked with rosey pink, and burning reds, behind them as the sinking sun backlit the ruins, against which faint curls of smoke from scattered campfires drifted in little wafting curls. 

The bones of Tain, the regnar which had become their dinner, lay aside to be taken back to their tent later. The skeleton was stripped of all meat, organs, brain, even eyes and tongue. No scrap of meat was wasted when people were starving daily. Garak intended to use some of the small bones as needles, and to wear the skull like a pendant on a necklace. This, he said, would show to any would-be looters or troublemakers that he was quite quick and agile, as it was not just any Cardassian who could catch a regnar, thus wearing the skull as a trophy would serve as a warning and perhaps protection. 

Garak's gray fingers stroked lazily through Julian's thick, curly hair, as the doctor rested his head on Garak's chest. 

"We should head back," Garak said, "it isn't a good idea to leave our tent unattended too long."

"Not just yet," Julian said.

He tipped his head up to kiss the underside of Garak's chin. There used to be a soft pad there, but now the skin was taught, and the sharp profile of Garak's chin looked even sharper.

"You seem weary," Julian said, "and I want to make you feel better--at least for a little while. I do like to look after you, you know."

"Yes, I suppose it's a side-effect of ones lover being a doctor," Garak said.

"I'm not going to look after you as a doctor," Julian purred, gently stroking one side of Garak's jaw, where his ear ridges curved down along the edge.

"I never thought I would say this, my dear, but I'm afraid I'm too tired for such... activities..." Garak sighed, half-closing his eyes.

"You've nothing to worry about. I'll take care of everything," Julian said, dipping his head to lap at Garak's neck ridges.

Garak gave a soft moan of pleasure as Julian's warm, slick, tongue glided over his ridges, and his teeth scraped. His doctor knew and loved every bit of his body, he knew all the right places, and seemed to worship Garak's body with his own.

Once they were both ready, Julian wrapped Garak's thick length with his tight muscles and the warmth of his body.

Garak lifted a heavy hand to stroke the flat expanse of Julian's chest. He loved the feel of the little curls of hair beneath his fingertips, the perky nipples, the brown skin glowing as the sun hit the horizon.

They moved together, panting, breathing, making noises of pleasure as the darkness fell around them and the moon glowed above like a silvery eye. Garak arched up beneath his lover, the tension releasing from his body suddenly, and Julian cried out above as his warmth splashed onto Garak's belly.

Garak lay still for several moments just regulating his breathing, flicking his tongue, taking in the scent of their mating, their sex, their delicious mess. No scents had ever enveloped and overwhelmed him like the drunken concoction of theirs mingled together.

Julian curled up on top of Garak, and Garak held him until he came down from the wonderful feelings drifting over him.

He pressed a kiss to Julian's cheek and spoke to him lowly in Cardassian, calling him 'my treasure', as his finely ridged nose brushed the delicate shell of Julian's ear.

Eventually they drew apart, and went scavenging for their clothing, making sure to shake as much sand out of their pants as possible before putting them back on again.

Garak watched Julian closely as they headed back to their tent. His doctor seemed relieved, probably because Garak had his head more together than he had the night before--and of course the sex was probably a factor in that placid look on his doctor's face.

But in a way it seemed strange for Julian--for anyone--to look so at peace here.

They picked their way through bodies, some sleeping, some dying, some dead, as they headed back to their tent.

Suddenly, Julian gave an odd sort of startled cry.

"My god!"

Garak paused to see what was the matter.

Julian's face was distorted in a grimace as he looked down a upon what appeared to be two adult Cardassians bundled into a blanket.

Garak could taste and smell the blood, however, and upon tilting his head he could see the blanket glistening with blood.

Julian was kneeling next to them, murmuring. 

"We're fine," a woman 's voice said, "my... my husband... was dying and he... asked me to kill him," she said, lifting a knife which glistened with dark blood.

"Damn it--I'm a doctor, I may have been able to save him!" Julian cursed, "what--what's that?"

Garak cringed now as he saw what Julian was looking at. The woman moved the blanket to reveal that her husband was cut open from sternum to pubic bone. She was laying in a pool of his blood, and even worse, something seemed to be moving inside of him.

The woman took in a quick breath, a whimper.

"She wouldn't have made it through another cold night," she said, "Tamok wanted to keep her warm..." she said.

"Oh--oh god--" Julian got to his feet and stumbled a few steps away. He hunched over, hands on his knees, as though he was going to be ill.

There was a small child, what a human would refer to as a 'toddler', squirming inside the father's opened belly amongst the warm organs and blood.

A grief so intense washed over Garak, and he felt dizzy, and disconnected from his surroundings. He heard the woman making those gaspy whimpers, he heard Julian struggling to keep his dinner down, he heard the sound of the world falling down around him.

His memories seemed alive, and one took him back to the taste of blood in his mouth, Worf fighting him, keeping him from wiping out the Founders--yes, Garak had said, Sisko and the others would die--even his dear Julian. They would die as well. But the Founders would have been obliterated! Think of how many lives would have been saved.

This just after the female Changel ing had told him that he was dead, that all of Cardassia was dead, and though he had not shown he had gone cold inside knowing that she held an entire race of people in her hands--his people--and more. With a twitch of her finger she could have extinguished them all and never have cared.

Garak had been desperate to destroy the Founders. Worf had not been ready to allow him to commit genocide.

You fight well; for a tailor, Worf had said.

Garak's lips stretched away from his teeth which seemed to glow oddly in the dark. It was a terrible grimace, made worse by the fact that he began to laugh. He began to laugh so hard that he was doubling over in pain from it, almost screaming, braying, some sort of thing gone crazy in the darkness.

He felt Julian's hands on him, his arms around him, his feet moving, but he couldn't stop the laughter from bursting out of him. He was crying! He was sobbing! He was raving and laughing as Julian eased him down onto the rags they used as a bed inside their tent.

His name was being called to him from somewhere far away, in Julian's voice, yet somehow it was the voice of many people. The voices of the dead children he had hallucinated seeing upon several occasions. The voices of Kira, and Damar, in Mila's basement. The voice of Dukat taunting him with that slick, velvety, texture. The voice of Tain chastising him as a child, telling him he had made a grave error, walking him calmly to the closet and opening the door--

"No!" Garak shouted, waving his arms frantically, swiping at Julian without knowing it.

"Garak!" Julian shouted, trying to bring him back from whatever dark crevasse he'd slipped off into.

It wasn't a crevasse, it was a closet.

Tain stood in the strip of light left by the half-opened door. His looming frame was shadowed, his eyes peering down at the child like cold, hollow, things. Tain's gaze pinned him into a dark, tiny, corner, and then the door closed.

It locked.

All the breathe left his lungs.

"Garak! Garak!" Julian continued to shout as Garak gasped and struggled.

"It's too sss-mall!" Garak shouted desperately, thrashing, trying to tear at the canvas of the tent.

When Garak came back to himself, he realized that they were not in their tent. They were out in the open where the food line usually gathered, among the others who slept there. His head felt too heavy to lift, and it was crad led in Julian's lap. His throat felt as though it had been shredded to bits, a sure sign that he'd been screaming about something, but he couldn't really remember anything coherent. The last thing he recalled was scavenging for their clothing after they'd made love.

A flash of blood. A child moving within a corpse. 

Garak began to weep silently, and Julian held him; there was nothing else he could do.

-x-

When they woke the next morning they were spooning one another, Julian behind Garak, his long legs tucked up to cradle him, his arm curved protectively around Garak's torso.

Garak's head pounded, and he felt as though he hadn't slept at all. He was beginning to believe that there was simply no amount of sleep that would ever relieve the physical and mental exhaustion that was now his life. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to open his eyes.

Waking up to the Cardassia that existed now was jarring no matter how many times he had done it.

Oh, how selfish it was, but he needed just a few more moments in his doctor's protective presence before facing the reality that would attack him as soon as he opened his eyes.

He allowed himself to think back to an evening on the station, in Julian's quarters, after they'd satisfied each other multiple times. Garak had been bundled up in Julian's blankets, and the doctor had tucked himself in behind Garak, just like this.

"You're the little spoon, Garak!" Julian had said brightly,  though the statement had confused his companion.

"Pardon me, doctor? The 'little spoon'?" 

"Yes, and I'm the big spoon. We're spooning," Julian had tried to explain, "don't Cardassians... cuddle post-coit us? 

"Perhaps, but this..." Garak had turned to face Julian, and adoringly had pressed his forehead to Julian's in a gentle gesture, "would be 'spooning', though that is a rather vulgar term for it, I must say."

He had gone on to teach Julian a word used to refer to children, specifically ones own children, since it was more a term of endearment than a general one. It meant 'small chufa'.

"In calling me the 'little spoon', you are calling me a child," Garak had chastis ed lightly, "a child which you are quite fond of. I hardly think that's appropriate. I'm hardly a child."

"Hardly," Julian had agreed, then displayed a rather obnoxious smirk.

Garak had kissed it.

With a  sigh, Garak opened his eyes. He was being quite ridiculous allowing himself to wallow in old memories. How disgustingly sentimental! But perhaps he had always been a bit more so than he'd ever let on to his dear friend.

After standing in line for food, and water, the two headed their separate ways; Garak to work clearing rubble, Julian to Camp 013's quarantine tent.

Despite the monotony of the work, and the lack of intelligence needed to move one piece of debris from this plie to that one, Garak actually found relief in the work. The hard physical labor made him hyper-aware of his muscles working, and straining. It made his joints ache, despite how sturdily built a Cardassian was. It was the repetitive nature of it that made him hurt--but the pain kept him focused and the more he could focus on the physical, the less he would focus on the wreck that lived inside his mind.

Now and then he might see something that didn't exist. Something that only he could see. But he at least could recognize when that was happening to him, and if he was working hard enough, focusing hard enough on the physical, he could even ignore them for a great periods of time.

Cardassians were skilled at cutting themselves off from this thing, or that thing, dissecting themselves away when they needed to in order to survive.

Around midday Kelas Parmak came by Garak's work group to offer water, and what vitamins he had, and to check on his friend Garak.

Of course Garak insisted he was fine, but he was certain that Kelas could tell by his eyes when he was having a more mentally sound day, and when he was not. Garak didn't like that fact, but Kelas was much like Julian, and both doctors had always had a certain way of seeing some things in him that other people would never notice.

Kelas gave a shake of his head, which sent his long, silvery, braid, whispering against his back. 

"Go on, there are people worse off than us," Garak said,  shooing him away, not wanting the doctor's eyes on him--though in all fairness, he probably deserved every moment in which Kelas' 'knowing' gaze made him feel uncomfortable.

After all, Garak had once gotten a confession out of that man, simply by staring at him for an hour.

The fact that they were friends now was not as surprising as some might have thought. Kelas understood that Garak had done what he'd had to do. The fact that it had resulted in the man spending years in a labor camp seemed to be irrelevant.

Once back to work, Garak's day grew darker.

The woman who was toiling next to him suddenly dropped a piece of twisted metal that had been in her arms, and she just fell over dead from exhaustion.

A few hours later there were screams from nearby, and when Garak's group rushed over, they were to find that another area had collapsed into a yawning sinkhole, taking a group of Cardassians with it.

It was surprising, given Garak's former line of work, and the tragedies he had endured, that he wasn't yet desensitized to death. When  he'd needed to assassinate someone for a 'job' it had been different. He could removed himself emotionally from the situation. What he had been doing was for Cardassia, so how could their be wrong in it? How could there be guilt? 

But after a time he had felt an inner struggle, wondering sometimes, questioning himself. The struggles would end in the same way each time--with Garak calling upon his patriotic devotion to the State. That was the direction of his moral compass. His heart, his soul; these things had never belonged to him. They belonged to Cardassia and if Cardassia tore pieces of them away, asked for them as sacrifice, then it was Garak's honor to sacrifice for Cardassia.

But face with his people being nearly wiped out by the Dominion, faced with seeing them su ccu mb to the following plague, to the starvation and dehydration, falling down in front of him from exhaustion, being taken away into the very earth--he could not disconnect himself from those deaths in the same way.

Those were Cardassian lives. Those were his people. All of them together were Cardassia, and Cardassia was dying. The thing he had devoted every bit of himself to was crumbling before him. Every ideal, every devoted moment, every sacrifice...

He could see it on the faces of the people around them,  disenfranchised, despairing, some of them hating what they were and where they were. Many of his people were reverting to more basic instincts just to survive, abandoning what they felt they could no longer hold  Cardassian patriotism died, that would be the final death, and there would be no more hope of survival.

Garak climbed up onto a large bit of stone, making himself taller, more noticeable. He looked around at the downtrodden people around him, his heart aching, and he could only hope that this would uplift them just a bit.

He opened his mouth and began to sing lowly in Cardăsda ;

_ O Cardassia, my home upon the sands _

_ O Cardassia, for thee we lift our hands _

_ United stand to serve thee _

_ Across the desert, rocks, and plains _

_ No greater honor have we _

_ Than to serve through strife and pain _

_ Each heart, and soul, and life for thee _

_ Laid down for greater gain _

_ No higher purpose, no greater task _

_ Than to live in right devotion to _

_ Whatever  thee may ask _

_ O Cardassia in everything we do _

_ O Cardassia everything we give for you _

Around the words 'no greater honor have we' a few voices began to join in, then more around 'no higher purpose, no greater task' and by the last lines a crowd had gathered and every Cardassian in range was singing, chins lifted in defiance to their circumstances, eyes wet with determined tears.

A second round of the patriotic anthem went through the crowd, undulating in waves, rising in voices of all ages and genders, rising up in strength to punctuate each word with a spirit that refused to die.

In those moments Garak was proud of all them.

In those moments he thought that they might truly survive.

  



	4. Friends and Foes

Julian was exhausted, and it was truly difficult to exhaust a genetically enhanced person. A month into his stay with Garak and he felt ten years older, and several pounds leaner, than when he'd arrived. He threw himself into studying the plague with what few tools he had. He had been able to synthesize a medication to help relieve the severe itching that was one of the first signs of the plague, but yet to figure out anything to actually cure it. On the one hand, it felt good at least to be able to offer a small shred of comfort to the dying, so they were no longer clawing off their ridges and scales. On the other hand, relieving and itch when the plague was wiping out so many, so quickly, felt like nothing at all. 

Julian sat in the sun, his shirt off, and wrapped around his head to catch the sweat from dripping into his eyes and burning. He was squinting at his long, brown, toes, and prying chunks of sand out from between them. He had come to the planet with shoes on his feet, but one night he'd made the mistake of taking them off, and leaving them outside the tent while he slept. It was a stupid mistake, the sort of brainless thing one does when one is too exhausted to be even minimally functional. 

He'd gotten a good rest, but his shoes had been gone when he'd gotten up the next morning. 

Now the bottoms of his feet were covered with blisters from rubbing in the rough sand, and walking on top of it at midday, when it held the most heat and felt like burning coals. Garak had suggested he tear his shirt and use the scraps to wrap around his feet to protect them, but Julian decided he needed his shirt more as a turban. He was using his eyes constantly to examine people, and tiny microscopic things, it wouldn't do to keep having sweat run into them or he'd get nowhere at all. 

There was sand in his mouth constantly as well, always scraping the insides of his cheeks, and grinding and crunching between his teeth.  

Garak sat down in the sand across from Julian, and without a word, lifted one foot into his lap. Garak had torn the sleeves off of his shirt, and he began to use one of them to carefully wrap around Julian's foot. 

Julian leaned back a bit to watch Garak work. As painful as it was, despite Garak clearly trying to be quite gentle, Julian showed no sign of the pain on his face.  

"I think I dislike the desert," Julian said, and ended his thought on a frown. 

"Ironic, isn't it? You've told me upon more than one occasion that your ancestors originated in such a climate," Garak said. 

"I'm not sure the Middle East is even as hot as Cardassia gets at midday," Julian said. 

"Tell me again about the Sahara desert on Earth," Garak said, "it sounds quite lovely." 

Julian chuckled a bit at that. Only a Cardassian would think so. He closed his eyes as Garak began wrapping his other foot. He thought back to the lunch where they'd had that particular discussion. 

"You really should look after yourself," Garak said, before Julian could say anything about the Sahara at all, "sometimes, I'm not sure you know how." 

Julian opened his eyes a bit and watched through his lashes as Garak tilted his head at him, giving him a look of concern, and stern admonishment, that might almost be characterized as 'parental'. The look was somehow amusing, and at the same time, a bit uncomfortable for Julian. 

"Am I grounded?" Julian asked, continuing to make light of the situation. 

"Grounded?" 

Garak didn't understand. 

"Never mind, and thank you," he said, as Garak finished the wrapping, "you're right, I suppose. I'm busy looking after everyone else. As a doctor, that's the way it is, Garak. Everyone else comes first." 

"It makes little sense to me," Garak countered, "if you don't look after yourself, eventually, you won't be able to look after others either. If that day ever came I don't know what you would do with yourself." 

"Go back to tennis," Julian said, swinging his arm as though swing a racket. 

Garak made to get up, but Julian stopped him with a hand curling around his wrist. 

"Just a minute--I don't get you to sit down often. You're always working," Julian said, "someone's got to look after you too." 

He pressed two fingers gently to the inside of Garak's wrist to check his pulse. He could do it with the tricorder, but this was just as good, and he and Garak were so busy with their respective duties, that they hadn't gotten to steal many touches lately. 

After Julian had decided that Garak seemed to be doing okay, or as okay as he could be given the circumstances, he brought the cool wrist to his lips and kissed it. It was always a surprise to Julian to touch Garak. There were parts of him that were rugged, rough, with thick scales layered like armor, and then there were parts like the inside of his wrist, the insides of his thighs, his bottom, his belly--that were so soft and smooth. The textures and the distinct differences between them had never become boring. Julian loved to explore them now just as much as he had upon his first chance to do so. 

He would never forget his first look at Garak's naked body. There were no words that could properly describe how strongly he had felt upon laying his eyes on his lover fully bare to him.  

"You're beautiful," Julian said. 

"Don't be ridiculous," Garak said, "starvation doesn't suit me." 

"We'll have more food once the gettle hunts get underway," Julian said, "are you going to join one of the hunting parties?" 

"I do have good aim," Garak said, "it would be a waste of my talents not to." 

Gettles had been poached to an endangered level, and they weren't normally found in that part of Cardassia at all. But with all the death, the creatures had been drawn out. They hung around the outside of the camp in packs, scavenging the dead carcasses. 

Lately they had been becoming braver. A pack had been venturing nearer to living people. A child had been attacked, torn limb from limb by the beasts, and one had been seen dragging an elderly woman away by her hair. 

Using scavenged weapons, and spears that were hand carved, probably reminiscent of what their Hebitian ancestors had once used, groups of Cardassians had decided to go out in parties at night and hunt down the gettle. The first hunt was to begin that night. 

It seemed to give many something to look forward to--not just the extra meat that could be provided by killing the animals--but the actual call of the hunt. Having something to hunt lifted spirits in other ways.  

"A damn shame," Julian said, giving his lover a small smile. 

"Why don't you join us?" Garak asked, seeming oddly delighted at the idea. 

"Well, my aim is perfect," Julian said, "but... I'm not so sure." 

"Come now, my dear doctor," Garak said, "surely you must have gone hunting in some of those ridiculous holoprograms you used to be obsessed with--along with Chief O'Brien." 

"They weren't ridiculous..." Julian insisted, "and of course we did. But we only killed holograms." 

"Then this hunt should be far more satisfying," Garak said, giving Julian a very predatory looking smile. 

- 

As night fell around Camp 013 the howls of their prowling foe, the gettle, began to rise up to the winking stars. Cardassians gathered with weapons they had pilfered from the debris, or spears that had been hand carved. Several people had brought along their loyal riding hounds. Others had sacrificed their pets for food, and would not having them to ride into the hunt, but those who owned more than one of the pets seemed willing to share them, though most of the beasts looked too starved to support the weight of an adult Cardassian. 

Garak seated himself upon one of the hounds. He had managed to get Julian to come along, but the doctor was still not convinced that he could really kill a gettle. 

Instead he climbed onto the back of the hound, behind Garak. Despite the lean look of the hound, as hard pressed for finding food as the people were, the hound supported their combined weight easily.  

"I can smell the gettle," Garak said, flicking his tongue, as the cooling night air swept towards them.  

"I can see them," Julian said, his words warm against the back ridges of Garak's ear. Julian's augmented vision was better than Garak's. Garak could not yet see the dark shapes of the gettle moving in the distance, but Julian could see them from far off. Some were lurking near the mass graves, ready to scavenge and desecrate. Julian pointed. 

"That way. I'll guide you," he said. 

Garak pressed his heel into the hound's side and patted the side of his neck, giving a sharp, single syllable word in Cardassian. The hound started off at a moderate pace in the direction Garak had instructed it to go, and several other riders followed Garak's lead in that direction. 

They approached the piles of bodies, which looked like terrible, mishapen, mountains in the moonlight. A gettle was snuffing and nibbling at the soft meaty cheek of a newly dead corpse. Garak and the other riders were downwind so the gettle wouldn't smell them, but the creature paused, and lifted its muzzle, covered with dark blood and little bits of flesh. Its golden eyes winked like mirrors as it looked this way, then that, and licked the gruesome muck from its muzzle.  

Garak had the advantage of being hidden in the shadow that the mountain of bodies cast. Out of the shadows the hunters sprang. The gettle raise up on hind legs, suddenly enormous, its jaws stretched open wide in a terrible growl--Garak gave a cry and plunged his spear down the beasts throat. He was sprayed with blood, Julian only a bit, since he was crouching behind Garak and hiding his face against the matted raven hair. 

The light of Cardassian phasers and riffles being fired at more gettle split through the night, along with the wild, gleeful, cries of the hunters as gettle fell dead upon the sand around them. 

Garak yanked his spear free, and his heel hit the side of his riding hound harder, directing it to take off after a pack that had scattered and was on the run. 

The hound was quick and nearly silent as it ran, as hyped about the hunt as its Cardassian masters. Foam slicked the hounds lips and muzzle as it ran, ears set back, head down, powerful muscles working beneath its riders. Julian clinged more tightly to Garak, whose body seemed to be singing and humming with energy. The Cardassian seemed strong, and virle, beneath him as they chased the night, and Garak speared the creatures.  

Coming upon the largest gettle yet, the creature let out a terrible sound, something between a growl and a roar, and Garak actually roared back at it, as though he had reverted to something wild and feral, the bloodlust taking him back even beyond the ancient Hebitians, back to a time when Cardassians had been more animal than humanoid.  

"Garak!" Julian's fingers bit into Garak's flesh as the massive gettle lept at them, enormous razor-like fangs flashing, claws extended, ready to rip flesh from bone. The riding hound dug his teeth into the gettles flesh as Garak jammed his blood soaked spear into the gettles' throat. The roar became a garbled, drowning, croak as blood gurgled up and out of the gettles mouth. It fell upon Garak, Julian, and the hound: dead and still leaking blood. 

The three of them pulled themselves out from beneath the fallen creature. From points in the darkness that even Julian couldn't see, the victories cries of the Cardassian hunters came here and there, louder, then more distant, and then eerily carried upon the wind.  

Garak worked furiously to tie the gettle carcass to the hound so the hound could drag it back to camp, and along the way, he and Julian collected others that had fallen. 

When the hunt had ended for the night, the camp was full of gettle carcasses, and every Cardassian had awoke and gathered to light fires in the center of Camp 013 to roast the gettle as the moon hung high in the sky. 

The hunters were praised and several wanted to touch the blood they wore, sprayed over skin and clothing. Cardassians gathered the gettle blood onto their fingers and painted their ridges, their chufas, streaked their faces with it like war paint.  

Julian stood back and took it all in. He had never seen Cardassians behave in this way. They had always seemed cool, aloof, kept under a certain control, as though that was a cultural standard for the way Cardassians were meant to behave. But everything was stripped away now and they were not a gathering of stoic, cool, gray. They were vibrant, red, and celebrating their victory in the light of blazing fires. 

Everyone ate well that night. For the first time in many, many, months, bellies were full. There was plenty left over, and the meat was stripped away and laid out to be dried into jerky which would be handed out with rations until it ran out. The added protein would bolster those who were weak and starving, and with the supplement to the rations, workers would have more energy to spend on their tasks. 

Morale was boosted, and as Julian worked in the quarantine tent the next day, he could hear Cardassians singing patriotic anthems as they worked. The mood in the camp had certainly shifted. 

Even Julian's mood had been affected, and not just raised, but he'd been quite aroused seeing Garak that way--despite his own reluctance to participate more actively in the hunt. Julian supposed he had always had a strange fascination with dangerous things, and Garak had seemed quite dangerous as he had felled the beasts that night. 

Julian had dragged him away from the fires, to some place private, and had demanded Garak fuck him. Garak was still covered in gettle blood, still in that feral, wild, state, and Julian had burned for that to be turned onto him. 

After they'd finished, several times, they'd gone back to the camp and their share of the roasted gettle meat. 

As Julian worked in the quarantine tent, listening to the Cardassian voices singing, he moved as carefully as he could. He was hurting from the night before, but it had been delicious. He loved when Garak was gentle with him, and treated him like a treasure, but he loved that predatory, instinctual, side of him just as much, and it was rarer to see that unwrapped from Garak's ingrained controls. 

Julian pressed his lips together tightly as he knelt to check one of his patients, the man who had dug his chufa off of his forehead.  

"Yebek, don't leave me--" Julian scanned the man worriedly with his tricorder. Several organ systems were failing. His pulse was weak. He was struggling to breathe. 

"Yebek! Your wife has your egg in her nest--" Julian was hovering around the edges of frantic, as he imagined Almar's face when he told her that her husband had gone to join the piles of dead, "you've got to stay long enough for me find a cure!" he shouted, "you've got to see your child!" 

Yebek gasped and the breath made a terrible, rattling, noise in chest. 

"No, no!" Julian began chest compressions, "dammit! Yebek!" 

He counted the compressions, pinched the scaley nose as he pressed his lips to the chapped, split, lips, and breathed his own breath into the Cardssian's lungs. Caught up in the moment, trying desperately to save this man, he wasn't considering that there was a small chance he could contract the plague from exchanging bodily fluids.  

He counted more compressions, refusing to give in, refusing to give up, until finally he had to sit back and admit that Yebek was dead. 

He wasn't doing enough. He wasn't working hard enough. There were things he wasn't thinking of, why wasn't his amazing, augmented, brain figuring this out! 

Julian's face was full of pain, frustration, irritation at himself, as he closed Yebek's dead eyes and called over an assistant to remove the body.  

Even the sounds of the Cardassian workers singing could not break through the thick funk that settled around Julian for the rest of the day. With each person the plague claimed, Julian blamed himself, until he his stomach was a ball of pain and emotion and he wanted something to take his frustrations out on. 

He knew this was no way to work, but he couldn't just let it go. He couldn't 'disconnect' from situations or emotions the way Cardassians seemed to be able to do. It was a human defect, Garak would probably say, and in this instance Julian might be inclined to agree. 

Julian's answer was to work himself harder. 

Upon his third night spent awake, working, pacing the quarantine tent, cursing under his breath, and watching more Cardassians die, he received a visitor. 

"You must be doctor Julian Bashir." 

Julian paused in his pacing. His PADD was in his hand, and he'd been reading over his notes again, trying to figure out something he hadn't already tried. He sat it aside on an overturned barrel that was used as a small table, and moved towards the Cardassian. 

He was built a bit more like Dukat that Garak, the 'leaner' Cardassian rather that Garak's stocky variety. He hadn't Dukat's distinctive, long, neck. His hair was gray rather than the common jet black. He was obviously an older man, though he carried himself like a younger man, and seemed to move easily, without the slowness of age to make things slow or difficult, at least not yet. 

"Yes, that's right," Julian said, "and... you are?" 

Julian glanced down, noting the bags the man was carrying. Had he brought medical equipment? Julian's heart lept at the possibility. 

Without thinking, Julian extended his hand in the human gesture of a handshake.  

The man grasped it. 

"My friends call me Crell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you don't know who Crell Moset is, watch Voyager Season 5 Episode 8 'Nothing Human'. I accidentally watched it and it was the best thing because til then I didn't know how much I needed Crell Moset to appear in this story >>)


	5. The Compass

“Who’s Crell Moset?” Julian asked Garak, as they ate their evening meal rations. 

“Mm? Oh,” Garak paused to tilt his head, and he gave Julian a slow blink, “I believe he was a physician.”

Julian pursed his lips. Garak was doing his ‘innocent tailor’ routine, and by now, Julian had caught onto it. Thinking back to when he’d first known Garak he had been quite niave, and had thought that Garak actually wanted him to come by his shop for a suit, rather than to spy on any Klingons. In some ways Julian longed for those days back again. Things had been good for the war had broken out. He felt sheepish recalling how he’d first set foot on DS9 and offended Kira with his proclamation about “Frontier Medicine”. Julian picked up a rock and began to turn it in his hand.

“He showed up at the quarantine tent today—and you know more than you’re telling me,” Julian said. He closed his eyes briefly as a tepid breeze drifted over the landscape and kicked up whirls of sandy dust.

“You know me well enough,” Garak replied, “but really, if there was anything  _ important _ I wouldn’t keep that information from you.”

“Sometimes, Garak, you and I don’t see eye to eye on what’s ‘important’,” Julian said.

Garak gave Julian a small smile.

“What’s important, my dear, is that you and Moset combine your medical brilliance to rid my people of this sickness that is robbing us what little life we have left!”

“I prefer to have the benefit of knowing who it is that I’m working with,” Julian said, “I’ll find out. I’ll just ask around. I’ve learned to be sneaky.”

“Have you? Then all of our time spent together has paid off for something,” Garak said. 

Julian swatted his arm.

“Ask who you wish about Moset,” Garak said, spreading his hands in gesture to those seated or lying on the ground around them. “You won’t hear anything terrible, if that’s what you’re expecting. The man is a genius. I do believe he has lead the way with several ground breaking medical procedures, and he’s had to work quite hard to prove himself. On Cardassia the medical field and sciences are largely dominated by women. You really should have invited him to dinner,” Garak said, “perhaps I could have found some lovely candles…”

Julian came close to glaring at him, but there was still a touch of playfulness there.

“I’ll find out,” Julian said again, leveling those words at Garak like they were a threat, and when Julian’s dark green eyes locked onto his they seemed to penetrate Garak. Julian wanted to see Garak shiver, but the Cardassian would never allow himself to be that obvious.

“Then again, I think I’m quite glad it’s just the two of us,” Garak said, “perhaps we can sneak away to our nice, comfortable, tent after dinner and… share some dessert,” Garak said, wrapping his mouth very slowly and deliberately around each word.

“Are you serious, or are you just trying to avert my attention to something else?” Julian asked, leaning in more closely, and lowering his lashes a bit.

“I have no idea what you mean…” Garak said, but he seemed to be captivated by Julian’s eyes.

“Garak, I’m onto your sneaky ways,” Julian said, and he reached out and grabbed the front of Garak’s dirty tunic, and kissed him forcefully. Garak’s eyes grew wider. 

Julian broke the kiss a moment later, and Garak straightened his tunic primly, which was laughable given the state it was in in the first place. Julian rose to his feet and offered his hand to Garak, who took it and got to his feet as well. They were quite finished with their evening rations, and slipped off to their tent to have that ‘dessert’.

Their clothing was quickly tossed aside, and Julian was dragging the most delicious noises from his Cardassian. 

“The whole camp will know what we’re up to, you noisy thing,” Julian chastised Garak lightly, and gave a firm smack to Garak’s thigh, right on the soft scales that ran down the outer side, and then he gently dragged his fingernails over the tingling area. Instead of quieting down Garak only grew louder.

Garak spread his legs eagerly for his lover and Julian teased and pleased him until it seemed that Garak could no longer stand it. Then with a forceful growl, and pulling Julian forward, Garak demanded he stop playing games.

“But you love to play games, don’t you?” Julian teased, pinning Garak’s hands above his head. Julian bit at one of Garak’s engorged neck ridges, and Garak hissed. The Cardassian’s eyes were hooded, and he was in a state that was almost animalistic as the hissing sound continued.

Julian kissed Garak’s jaw, and finally complied with his wishes.

“Oh, oh--Garak! You feel sssssooo good,” Julian hissed, mimicking the way his lover spoke when he was aroused. Garak tossed his head and bucked his hips to meet Julian’s thrusts. 

They urged each other on until they were at the height of pleasure and then they came hard together. Garak threw his arms out to his sides and suddenly the tent collapsed down aroudn them. Garak didn’t laugh very often, but both of them were in near hysterics over their situation.

“Garak, you must tell me,” Julian said between laughter, as they struggled to figure their way out of the collapsed tent, “who is Crell Moset?”

“My dear doctor--were you attempting to use sex as a distraction to get this information from me?” Garak said, battling with the material.

“This is--rather claustrophobic--”

“Found the flap,” Julian said, crawling out and then helping Garak out as well, “and…” Julian said, once they were both upright, and Garak was straightening his hair a bit, “I was, yes.”

Garak gave Julian a playful smirk.

“I do so admire your attempt, it was quite… manipulative… however, it has failed,” Garak said.

He bent to move around the fabric and fish their clothing (or the rags that passed for them) out. No one else seemed to care that the two men were nude. Normally this would be quite offensive on Cardassia, to be publicly naked, but with pestilence, famine, and the society teetering on the edge of complete collapse, there were more pressing matters than to be offended by than a pair of dirty bottoms.

“Alright, fine, but I’m not giving up that easily!” Julian proclaimed, as he dressed himself.

The next morning Julian was up before the sunrise. It was strange sitting on the cool sand, and feeling all alone in the desert, despite being surrounding with sleeping Cardassians. There was an eerie hush over the camp, no sounds but some animals scuffling, a small distant whimper, and the sounds of breathing. The longer Julian sat there in the stillness, the louder the breathing became. His genetic enhancements were not helpful in this sort of situation. He could hone in on certain noises in the most chaotic din, but adversely, sometimes things that sounded minimalistic to others were louder and more persistent to his ear. The breathing of the Cardassians around him, against the silence of the night, seemed like bugs filling his ears. He rubbed his ears a bit as if to clear them, and recalled how bothered he had been by noises when he’d been much younger. Before the enhancements.

Looking back out at the horizon the sun was just beginning to peek over the convex line where desert met sky. A threadlike silver line began to bloom there, and Julian watched it steadily grow, and paint the black sky with a shade of pink that was usually reserved for rosy cheeks on babies, and the yellow of the first spring daffodils. When his eyes began to burn he looked away. It was a stark juxtaposition: how beautiful Cardassia was, and yet how ugly the desolation of war had left it. 

Slowly the sand began to warm, and slumbering Cardassians began to wake up, stumble to their feet, and shuffle around to begin the day. Soon the queue was formed for breakfast rations, and Julian began asking around about Crell Moset.

He wasn’t getting very far with his questioning. Some of those in line simply grunted and seemed to want to brush him off as though it wasn’t late enough in the day to answer questions. Julian had noticed that it did seem to take most Cardassians some time to get going in the morning. He supposed it had to do with the drop in body temperature during sleep. As a result a Cardassians organ systems would slow down to conserve heat. He did find a few who were willing to talk--but barely. At best people were being quite cagey with him and by the time he was handed his rations he knew that something was wrong with the Moset fellow. 

Cardassians tended to be cagey in general, but Julian had a feeling that there was more to it than that. It was as though something was not being said quite deliberately. One person had even said to him: “that’s all I’m saying, I wouldn’t want to offend you”. That left Julian to wonder what it could be that would offend him, someone connected to the Federation. He thought it very likely that Moset must have played some sort of role in the Occupation. Doctors would have been needed, especially very brilliant ones, and if he’d done things that would be offensive by Federation standards… well. 

Julian needed to know.

He handed his breakfast rations to a child and headed for the quarantine tent hoping to find Moset already there. He stopped under the slouching canopy of the tent and began to check patients. He pressed his fingers to the pulse of a Cardassians neck and counted off the beats. The beats were slow and sluggish but it was also early morning. Cardassian bodies were still cool and systems would be running more slowly until a bit more warmth crept into the earth. While a human would be in dire trouble with a pulse rate such as this, the Cardassian he was attending to was just fine--as far as that bit went.

There were open wounds all over his body, however, from clawing at his skin as was one of the plagues main symptoms. Julian had been able to concoct an herbal remedy using pulp from a common cacti and a few other items, and rubbing it daily over affected skin areas seemed to be very soothing. 

Julian carried around a bucket of the goo every morning, and every night, to slather it onto damaged gray skin. He made a cup with his long fingers and dipped them into the goop and began to smear it over the affected areas of the Cardassians’ skin. He was glad to hear the sigh of relief that escaped the man’s cracked lips as he applied the salve. 

“Your skin is looking better, Jarrel,” Julian said, as he carefully working up the back of the mans shirt. There were a few scales back there which needed to be removed. Julian could spot the beginnings of infection and scale rot was nothing to play with. 

Moset came in when Julian was working off the last of the infected scales. Julian applied a bandaged to the raw area where the scales had been removed, and stood up.

“This man appears to be in the end stages of the plague,” Moset said, “why use your time treating him for minor abrasions and secondary infections? We need to continue research to cure this plague. Every moment wasted is another moment in which a Cardassian may lose his life to this plague.”

Julian bristled.

“There’s no reason he can’t be comfortable,” Julian said quietly, “you really should work on your bedside manner.”

“My what?” Moset asked, blinking at Julian from beneath his brow ridges.

Julian moved to the next patient to treat with the salve and Moset followed him.

“Your bedside manner--your attitude and demeanor with the patients,” Julian explained as slathered goo onto a badly damaged neck ridge.

“Platitudes and pleasantries don’t cure diseases, my boy,” Moset said.

Julian disliked him even more for calling him ‘boy’, but he did his best not to snarl. Working with moset was going to be a challenge. But really, how different did he sound than Garak?

“At least I am doing something productive to help--you’re merely following me around and arguing every point I make.”

“I am a Cardassian,” Moset said, “but you’re right! I’ll make myself useful while you’re doing… whatever it is that you’re doing… and when you’re done playing nurse, you can join me,” Moset smiled.

The worst thing about him was that he had a way of sounding kind even when saying something terrible, and he smiled very pleasantly about all of it.

“I do care--and that’s why I prefer to manage my time wisely. Each person in this tent is running out of it,” Moset said. He turned and left Julian to his business.

By the end of the day they had clashed over several more topics. Julian almost wanted Moset to challenge him angrily, but each time he answered in that placating tone, and he even began to hum at the end of some of their arguments. How could someone be so innocuous, yet so offensive, all at the same time?

Moset had even suggested that they let the scale rot intentionally spread in any plague victims who had it in order to study the effects of a secondary infection coupled with the plague. What did it matter if they were dying anyway, Moset had said. Allowing the rot to spread naturally would hasten their death--and would be more humane than extending their suffering. Julian on the other hand had argued that treating the rot allowed patients more time and that some of them might survive long enough to see a cure. 

Julian was in a mood when he returned to the tent he shared with Garak. He wanted to hide himself in it and pretend that the rest of the world, which contained people like Crell Moset, didn’t exist. But Garak dragged him out insisting that they have their evening rations together. Julian supposed he was looking a bit too thin--not that he’d had far to go to get there in the first place. 

Julian ate but he was uncharacteristically quiet. He wanted to vent about Moset, but wasn’t sure if Garak would agree with Moset, or see Julian’s point. Julian didn’t want to have to listen to Garak potentially backing Moset. Any other time a debate about morality--and Julian’s version of it vs. Garak’s version of it--would have been welcomed.

Instead Julian took out his frustrations by fucking Garak for a second time that day. This round wasn’t a slow, fun, tease and torment with the tent falling down on them at the end. It was very obvious that the doctor was letting out his agitation.

He nipped at Garak’s ridges, harder than he usually would, and he didn’t say anything unless he was grunting or shouting. His movements were forceful and left the backs of Garak’s thighs bruised but the Cardassian certainly hadn’t complained.

“I wouldn’t mind if you fucked me like this more often,” Garak purred as Julian settled down next to him, “but… you do seem rather agitated, even though I fail to see how one could, after coming so spectacularly.”

“Well, you’ll be getting your wish, so long as I’m working with Moset,” Julian said.

“Another man is working you into a lather? I’m not sure I approve…” Garak said.

“No--of course not. There’s nothing at all attractive about Moset, least of all his moral compass.”

“Ah. Yours points North, his points South,” Garak said.

“I don’t think his works at all. But I don’t want to discuss it. Just hold me a bit,” Julian said, curling up closer, and resting his head on Garak’s broad, sturdy, chest, “mm, Garak… you’re so beautiful. Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could just say here, naked and satisfied in this tent, and never have to go out to face plague, or death, or idiots?”

“There is some appeal… but even with our appetites… I fear we would eventually grow bored without obstacles to face,” Garak said.

“When did you get so wise?” Julian teased.

He closed his eyes and listened to Garak’s heartbeat. It was steady and seemed to anchor him in a way nothing else could. 


	6. Peak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ehhh. Lots of sex, special sex, reproductive stuff. Does that need a warning?

Julian had been staring at Garak for at least ten minutes. A few rays of dawn were filtering in through their tent flap and Julian was leaned on one elbow peering curiously at Garak's chufa. The lighting caused the indent to be shadowed but it looked to Julian as though it was flushed a bluish shade. He remembered Garak once telling him about the customary blue make-up that most Cardassian women, the occasional male, and sometimes non-binary Cardassians, liked to wear on their chufas. Julian doubted however that Garak had woken up in the middle of the night, applied some blue make-up to his chufa, and gone back to sleep. It was in fact unlikely that Garak had any of the pigment at all.

Julian pressed his finger gently into the dip. It just felt like smooth skin. He couldn't detect any residue.

Garak stirred and gave a small groan.

"You've been watching me for at least ten minutes," Garak said lazily, cracking one eye to peer up at Julian, "what do you find so intriguing this early in the morning?"

"Your chufa," Julian said, a bit of excitement tinging his voice, "it's flushed blue. It's a bit difficult to see in this light, but I'm sure of it."

Julian pushed the tent flap open a bit further to allow more light in. Doing so revealed that indeed Garak's chufa was colored a deep, jewel tone, blue. 

"Let me see your chula," Julian shifted the thick fabric of Garak's dirty tunic until it was pushed up enough to reveal Garak's belly and chest.

"That's cold--and so are your hands!" Garak grumbled, as Julian brushed his fingers over the teardrop shape that rested between the ridges that decorated Garak's clavicles, "fascinating. This one's flushed too."

Julian reached for Garak's waistband, but Garak's hands caught his and held them.

"My dear, I'm not one to regularly refuse the touch of a willing young man, especially one as attractive as yourself, but need I remind you that your hands are cold? It's also a bit early in the morning to stimulate my chuva," Garak said, referring to the third spoon-shaped decoration that adorned his body, this one at the groin.

"Why are all of your… er... " Julian paused, wondering what the collective term was for all of Garak's spoons--after all spoons didn't sound quite right to use, given how it was a bit related to the derogatory term 'spoonhead'.

"I've no idea why my chu'en should be flushed blue. Of course they do get darker under… certain conditions. More of a charcoal shade which you should be quite familiar with by now," Garak gave Julian a small smile.

"But they're not charcoal, Garak. They're very distinctly blue. I'm worried--might this indicate some sort of medical problem?"

"It… could indicate an… imbalance," Garak said, seeming to trod lightly around something.

Julian narrowed his eyes.

"Garak, what aren't you telling me? I can permit you your secrets usually, but not when it comes to medical issues," Julian said.

"I don't need Julian Bashir to permit me anything!" Garak huffed, "what a haughty, prideful, young man you are. Typical Starfleet. Really, I thought you had moved beyond that."

Julian rolled his eyes. 

"Are you flirting with me, or truly irritated at my questioning? It's hard to tell with you, you know," Julian said.

Garak had sat up and was smoothing his shirt down. He gave a small huff which clearly indicated annoyance.

"It's most likely due to my… atypical gender arrangement. A hormonal imbalance, I should think. Many Cardassia women like to wear blue pigment in their chufa, and other chu'en. But the chu'en grow naturally bluish when a woman is very… ah…" Garak leaned in very close to Julian, who didn't flinch, and then he said quietly, "fertile."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem for us. I don't have the proper parts for you to fertilize, and you've told me that you don't have them either. If your body is… extra fertile right now… then the only problem I anticipate is a very randy lizard," Julian said, and followed it up with a smirk. He closed the very small gap between their mouths for a kiss.

Garak's fingers trailed down one side of Julian's slender neck, then slid to the back of it to knead the smooth flesh. Julian smiled against Garak's lips. It always amused him how often times when they were being intimate, Garak seemed to treat Julian's body like a Cardassian body, touching him where he would have scales and ridges if he had been. It seemed almost an action of instinct.

Even though Julian lacked the sensitive neck ridges of a Cardassian, Garak's touches still made him hot and longing. Julian slid one of his fingers along Garak's flank, dancing over the smoothe scales there, and causing Garak to shiver and bite down on his lip.

"Oh--Julian--your hands are ice!" Garak complained once again, and nipped at Julian's lip.

"You're being rather aggressive. Biting me because my hands are cold? Certainly not the polished facade you try to put on. Biting doesn't seem very proper," Julian said.

"Have you seen where we are, and under what circumstances? I haven't bathed for months--if you're hung up on being proper then we're going to have problems," Garak said.

"Actually, I don't mind. You're rather cute with dirt on your face, and I must admit, your Cardassian musk is quite pleasurable," Julian said. He nuzzled Garak at the corner of his jaw where he knew there was a scent a gland. 

"Most humans I've encountered don't enjoy it."

"I'm not most humans," Julian countered, "maybe it's because I'm a bit of a xenophile, or perhaps my augments give me a keener sense of smell--or perhaps it's because you're…" 

Julian paused, twining his fingers in the back of Garak's hair. It was long, and getting a bit curly at the ends, and also brittle without the usual application of hair cream or serum to keep it supple and shiny. 

"Because I'm…?" Garak asked, and tilted his head to the side, offering better access to those ridges.

Julian took a moment to suck on the third one down before saying anything else.

"Ah… well… because we're frequently intimate, of course," he fumbled awkwardly.

The thought that had gone through his mind had been 'because you're my mate', but he wasn't sure if this was the right time to say such a thing to Garak or not, nor did he know if Garak felt that they were mates. There was a lot that Julian didn't know about Cardassian culture but he had learned to be more careful about what he said. So he kept that idea to himself and went back to tormenting Garak's neck ridges. They seemed more engorged than they usually became when Garak was aroused. 

Both Julian and Garak had things to do but what was meant to be a quick, morning, romp ended up lasting for hours. Each time Julian tried to get away Garak became aggressive and demanding, grabbing at him or wrapping his strong legs around his waist to pin him. Julian had never seen Garak quite like that. He wouldn't allow Julian to pull out, keeping him inside and rutting against him, spasms rippling down his body, until Julian was hard again. Luckily his genetic enhancements gave him more stamina than an average human male or he wouldn't have been able to continue. But by Julian's fourth orgasm his cock was painfully sensitive and Garak was still squeezing him.

"G-Garak? Garak… you're going to kill me by fucking if you don't let me g-go," Julian panted, "a lovely death as opposed to most, I'm sure, but I'm not quite ready to go."

Garak seemed not to even hear him. He was in a trance like state, his body still jerking, and rippling. Garak's belly and even his chest was wet and glistening with his own cum. It was pooled thickly in the dip of his chuva. Julian recalled the first time he had sucked Garak off, and he'd gotten quite a surprise at the amount of semen that had filled his throat and mouth in a single load. He wouldn't have minded licking every drop of the wet, tacky, mess, off of Garak but he couldn't do that while Garak was still gripping him.

"Garak?" Julian said his name a few more times, but it didn't seem to be getting through. He tried again to disentangle himself but Garak's muscles contracted around and almost cried out in pain. The contraction was powerful and it seemed more automatic than something Garak was doing on purpose, "alright just… give me a bit longer… maybe I can go again."

Julian reached up to stroke some hair off of Garak's face. He was concerned about what was happening and didn't know what to make of it, especially the strange trance Garak seemed to be under. This wasn't like any fucking, or even love making, that they'd shared before. This was more like… mating. 

Julian's eyes grew wide when it hit him.

Thoughts rushed through his head. Some reptiles changed color to signal to their mate that they were fertile. He had no idea how long reptiles tended to mate, after all he had studied medicine, not herpetology, but he did seem to recall that snakes in particular could stay in mating balls for quite sometime. Julian's ears burned as he considered a group of Cardassians mating in a undulating pile like serpents. He shook his head.

"Oh… but Garak can't--I don't understa—" 

Julian was confused but the spasms through Garak's body radiated into him and he was already feeling the stirrings of arousal once again.

Julian's hips ached as he fucked Garak, timing his thrusts to the way Garak's body was pulling at him. He was exhausted but it seemed that whatever had gripped Garak wasn't over yet and Julian had to see it through. He shifted Garak's legs and hips so he could get a deeper angle, and Garak's head lulled back, his eyes rolling so they were mostly white, and the undulating motions of Garak's body beneath his became even more intense. Usually Garak was very vocal but he'd gone completely quiet as if the trance he was in had taken his voice away too. Garak's prUt was hard between them. It was smudged with bluish bruises in various places from being stroked and pumped so much and Julian intended to leave it alone this go. Garak kept thrusting against him, pushing his prUt up against Julian's belly. Garak was doing it with such force that it was growing painful. Julian was sure he would be bruised there--in fact they were both going to be in quite a bit of pain when this was all over with. 

Tired of being speared in the stomach with a raging Cardassian hardon, Julian gripped Garak's length and stroked firmly in time with their thrusting. He had never seen Garak's face contorted into such a look of ecstasy. He couldn't take his eyes off of Garak's face, or his hugely swollen neck ridges, or the way his body and skin seemed to ripple and dance.

Finally they came together, and Julian prepared for Garak's thighs to keep him pinned yet again, but Garak simply went limp beneath him. The mesmerizing undulations just stopped very suddenly. The grip of Garak's muscles around him loosened. It was like turning off a light. Even the color was already fading from his chu'en. Garak's eyes were closed and he was making a very low, rumbling, sound. It was sort of a reptilian purr. 

"Garak…" Julian whispered. He lifted one of Garak's hands but it just dropped down as if lifeless, "Garak?" Julian said more loudly. He gave a light pat to Garak's cheek but not so much as an eyelash twitched, "I've put him into some sort of sex coma," Julian muttered.

He sat back and looked at the mess they had made of themselves. They were both bruised in various places. Garak's genitals were especially dark with bruising, but knowing Garak's relationship with pain and pleasure, Julian didn't really feel as though he had hurt him. Besides, Julian was well bruised too. His lip even felt sore and fat from where Garak had bitten him repetitively. Garak's belly and chest were a mess of spent seed, though he wasn't as messy elsewhere. The scaled lips that rimmed Garak's vagina, and his prUt when it wasn't everted, had closed tightly as if to prevent any semen from leaking out. 

"I have no idea what's just happened," Julian said, curling up between Garak's legs. He rested his head on one of Garak's thighs. It was thick, and strong, and smooth on the inside, "well… I do have some idea… but it doesn't make any sense," Julian said to the comatose Cardassian. 

He was torn between staying there curled up with Garak, or leaving to do his rounds. He had a duty to tend to, but Garak's unusual state was also concerning, and a large part of Julian felt that he should stay and be there when Garak came around. But in the meantime what might Moset be doing to his patients? 

That was what made the decision for him. Julian got up slowly, wincing with every pain, and gathered his clothing.

"I'm sorry, Garak," he said as he dressed, "but duty calls."  


Julian stepped out of his tent and was surprised to see that a rather large group of Cardassian women were gathered nearby. They turned to whisper to each other and Julian felt himself flushing from his ears to his toes. They were giving him strange glances over their shoulders. He decided to avoid them and instead headed straight for the medical tent.

"Ah, there you are," Moset greeted him in that odd, cheerful, yet frightening way of his, "I was going to ask where you've been this morning. But… no need."

Julian's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean, 'no need'?" he asked.

Moset gave an amused chuckle.

"You reek of vit'bet," Moset said, flicking his tongue minutely against his lips.

"What's vit'bet--well--you see...ah…" Julian stammered.

"Vit'bet… it is a very distinct scent, a combination of sex, and pheromones unique to… zefnes'er'net pey," Moset said.

"And… zefnes'er'net pey is?" Julian stumbled over the word, unable to properly reproduce some of the Cardassian sounds.

"Female Cardassians are fertile at various times. But zefnes'er'net pey is her peak. The words literally mean 'more fertile time'. Zefnes'er'net pey occurs in older females shortly before her body stops cycling. It comes on very suddenly, and is not relieved until the female is successfully fertilized. It's the most intense sexual phase in her life. Of course many older Cardassian females don't want to have children at an age when most are usually grown. Luckily a drug was formulated decades ago, which when delivered to a woman experiencing zefnes'er'net, tricks the body into thinking that fertilization has taken place. For a period of time their body will behave as though pregnant, but when an ovum doesn't grow or separate into an embryo, it will be rejected, and that's that."

Julian was having trouble taking this information in. Dread and joy were warring for dominance over his emotions. Dread because he had no idea what he was getting into, and because this Cardassia was no place for a child, and joy… surprising joy… at considering the miracle of a child between himself and Garak. But Garak wasn't a woman. He was a bit of a fluke, gender-wise, as far as Cardassians were concerned. Garak had also told him he didn't have any functional reproductive organs, just the vestigial vagina that allowed for an extra bit of fun. Of course Garak wasn't the most trustworthy source but surely he wouldn't have lied about something of that magnitude.

"Doctor, are you well?" Moset asked, "you're pale. What's the matter… you weren't intending to impregnate a Cardassian lady? Honestly, I'm surprised a woman in ek'tak bedded you at all. I couldn't imagine a Cardassian female being open to the possibility of having a child with a Terran. Normally I would be more tight lipped about specifics of Cardassian biology, but since you've impregnated a woman, you may as well know about that," Moset huffed.

"It… wasn't a woman," Julian said lowly, still in shock over all of it.

"Excuse me?" Moset said, pausing with a bandage dripping with ointment in one hand, regarding Julian with raised orbital ridges.

"Ah--nothing. I'm just in a bit of shock," Julian said. He recalled how Garak had said some people would find his gender arrangement to be a 'throwback' and it would be looked down upon. Julian didn't want to disrespect Garak by outing him this way, especially not to Moset. "We have work to do," Julian said, resolving to attend to business, and focus on the questions he had for Garak later.


	7. Strange Bedfellows

"I've told you time and time again that we can't afford to waste valuable resources on the dying!" Crell Moset's voice rose in an irate shout from the quarantine tent. 

Julian was once again applying cream to the scales of a woman who was dying. Another plague victim and a terrible case of scale rot.

"You do as you see fit, Moset, and I'll do as my conscience sees fit!" Julian said sharply, smearing a bit of the cream onto scales that decorated the woman's lower arm.

"No!" Moset shouted, spittle flying from his snarling lips. No more of his nice facade, a defense that Julian was beginning to think was somehow biologically encoded into Cardassians, his claws were out and his eyes were wild when Julian met them with his own stubborn stare, "We're barely surviving as a whole and we don't have room for your soft, twisted, Federation ideals! You may not have noticed where you are, but this is Cardassia!"

Julian pushed the dirty sleeve of the woman's dress up a bit higher. She lifted her other hand, weak, and trembling, and stopped him.

"No, doctor," she said in a papery voice, "please, use this for those who have scale rot, but not the plague. We know… we all know… that the plague is a death trap," she said, and then took in a rattling breath.

"But scale rot is incredibly painful and this will help to ease your pain—" Julian began, but he was interrupted.

"There are greater pains than the dying hours of… one woman… that need to be healed. I'll endure the pain. Please…" she met Julian's gaze with pale blue eyes that were tearful, "for Cardassia…" she gripped the front of Julian's tunic, pleading.

Julian's determination drained away from him as though he was tire that had gotten a hole. His morals were still warring with the words of the Cardassians around him but at the edges he couldn't deny that there was a point to the way they thought--at least as far as the skin cream was concerned. It was just so against Julian's nature to allow any living thing to suffer. But he was forgetting something very basic; that it was also a patient's right to refuse treatment.

Somehow bringing that to the forefront of his mind gave him permission to scraped the remaining cream off of his fingers and back into the bucket.

"I'll respect your wishes," Julian said very quietly. Still, he hated the look of pain that passed over her eyes when he so gently tried to lower her sleeve. But the woman had that hard glaze of resignation sealed down over her features. She closed her eyes.

Julian returned to the tub of cream to where they stored it in the tent and he could hear and feel Moset following after him. He was certain if he turned to look the Cardassian would have a smug grin on his face. Julian kept his back towards the other doctor.

"Perhaps you should go check on Garak," Moset said, slipping back into his easy conversational tone, "you've already been to check on him three times. It's been a several hours since your last check. Is he ill?"

Julian rubbed his eyes. Darkness had fallen around them, the line for dinner rations had long since passed and Julian had missed it, and around them the camp was quiet as most Cardassians were sleeping. But there were still things to tend to in the quarantine tent. Julian wasn't planning to check on Garak again until morning. The last check and Garak had still been in that strange deep sleep. He wanted to ask Moset if this sleep was common, but he also didn't want to come out and say that Garak must be pregnant now.

From what Moset had already said it seemed like a sure thing since the signal for zefnes'er'net pey to come to a close was sent out to the body and brain upon successful fertilization. Had Garak known what was happening to him? He was a secretive man but surely he would have explained something of that magnitude to Julian. He could imagine Garak trapping him into various scenarios, but not into fathering a child. Julian pinched the bridge of his nose.

He had far too much to think about--still trying to unwind this plague and figure a cure or at the very least a vaccine for it and with very few tools at his disposal. If Cardassia would stop being so stubborn and reach out to the Federation in seeking aide it would save a lot of lives. On top of that was dealing with Moset, the strange shifting sands that were Julian's morals v. Cardassian values, and a million smaller things like remembering to eat and stay hydrated, trying to get used to the crackle and crunch of sand that was constantly between his teeth, forgetting about the pain of his sunburn or the blisters on his feet for more pressing matters--and reminding himself that his augments didn't protect him against heatstroke after all. Now there was thinking of Garak carrying their child, putting his health and life at risk, attempting to carry out this pregnancy in terrible conditions and with minimal food and water. By Julian's estimation Garak was already bordering the edges of 'too thin'.

Julian hadn't any idea what Cardassian pregnancy and delivery was like. He had treated a pregnant woman several times but when it had come time for her to give birth she had wanted to so in private without the prying eyes of a Federation doctor. Julian didn't know what to expect. If Garak hadn't been aware that he was experiencing zefnes'er'net pey, did he not know that he was pregnant? Would Garak even want to carry and birth the child?

Of course he would; for Cardassia. Julian gave a small sigh. 

He decided to distract himself the way he knew best when a holosuite wasn't available--by working. Julian worked through the night without without rest. Eventually Moset had taken a spot on the ground just outside the quarantine tent. Julian could hear him muttering about how cold it was.

It had been quite common for Cardassians to huddle together at night to share body heat during the chilliest hours but few people would risk huddling now unless it was to protect family members. Huddling together was a good way to spread the plague. So was sharing blankets, and while thievery was still common, most would find their blankets left untouched. As the night wore on and dawn was nearing Julian's frustration had reached new heights. He was upset about the roadblocks he encountered in trying to figure out this plague. Much of it had to do with his lack of understanding Cardassian physiology but he had picked up a lot of it very quickly and when Moset wasn't singing, or they weren't arguing, Julian would pepper him with all sorts of medical questions in a never ending quest to gain knowledge about the secretive people. 

Julian slipped out of the tent and found Moset who was half awake and humming a low, soft, tune to himself.

"Are you still cold?" Julian asked, knowing the answer. Moset had a blanket but one wasn't really enough.

"Why should you care?" Moset asked.

Julian rolled his eyes in the darkness.

"For the same reason I care about treating scale rot in dying patients. I'm a doctor," Julian said. He sat down in the sand and scooted close to Moset then put an arm around him.

"I am quite capable of surviving on my own. All I need to keep me warm at night is a nice song in my heart," Moset said, "though you probably think I don't have a heart at all."

Julian noted that Moset didn't move away from his body heat. 

"I don't think the way you do and I find many of your practices to be unethical. There's far more I don't know about you and I've a feeling it's better we keep things that way. Just because we're sitting together in the moolight, and I've got my arm around you, doesn't mean we're friends. We're… two cold people who have no other choice," Julian said.

Moset laughed a bit at that but Julian wasn't sure what was funny about it.

"Have you slept? Even if humans might require less sleep than Cardassians you should probably have some rest," Moset said.

"I'll sleep now, and be up again with the sunrise," Julian said.

"I'd say there's only an hour or so until sunrise. You won't get much sleep," Moset said.

"It will be enough."

-x-

Just after sunrise Julian was staring down at Garak who was finally cracking his eyes open. 

"What a nice, long, nap you've had, Elim," Julian said.

Garak's eyes fluttered open even more at the deliberate use of his first name. Julian had also said it with great emphasis that might have implied he was annoyed about something. Annoyed wasn't really the proper word but he was on edge of their situation and they had a great deal to talk about. 

Garak gave a small grunting sound and sat up a bit.

"What… what's happened?" he asked, the grogginess leeching out of his voice.

Julian had noted that unlike most Cardassians Garak was able to shake off the slowness of sleep very quickly when he wanted to. Julian supposed this might have come with training and necessity of needing to be aware and ready when was a spy for the Obsidian Order and in constant potential danger.

"My dear, I feel as though I've been run over by a freighter," Garak said, sitting up a bit more.

"If calling me a freighter is your idea of flirting, it isn't working," Julian said. He wasn't smiling, or playful, though. He was very serious.

"I wasn't attempting to flirt, I feel quite strange, and as much as I usually enjoy your advances, I'd rather you don't touch me right now," Garak snapped.

Julian pressed his lips together tightly. He wondered if Garak would be snappy and aloof for the duration of his pregnancy.

"Believe me, Garak, I'm not in the mood for touching either. I've had enough to last me awhile. Certain parts of my anatomy are quite sore and ought not to be bothered," Julian said. 

Garak gave him a little puzzled bob of his head.

"I don't understand…"

"What do you mean?" Julian asked, "you were--we--many times! You… don't remember it?"  


"I recall you harassing me about my chufa being flushed, and you tried to manhandle me with those cold things you call hands. I must have gotten rid of you and gone back to sleep. Though that doesn't account for why I'm feeling so strange… but if you're in pain where I think you're referring to, and I'm in pain in similar regions… then I must theorize that I didn't get rid of you or go back to sleep. I suppose you can feel superior that you've fucked me senseless--literally. Have you ever heard of an orgasm so powerful it wipes one's memory?" Garak sounded quite defensive about this and a little annoyed. Julian supposed that Garak would have wanted to remember an orgasm so powerful and was probably perturbed that he didn't. That made Julian chuckled a bit.

"Alright, Garak," Julian said, "no, I haven't heard of such a thing. But I suppose it could happen. You're really not far from the truth. We did fuck several times and you were quite senseless. I… actually… it's a bit uncomfortable that you don't remember. I do hope you were aware of what you were doing…"

"What was I doing, doctor?" Garak asked, tilting his head, and regarding him curiously.

"Ah… I think… you may have experienced zefnes'er'net pey," Julian said. Even with his mispronunciation of parts of the phrase, Garak had clearly understood what he was saying. The Cardassian's eyes grew wide and he sprang to his feet.

"No! That is not possible!" Garak pushed past Julian and out of the tent. It was a good thing that Julian had cleaned him up and dressed him while he'd been passed out or he was certain that Garak would have just barreled out into the open naked and a mess. Julian scrambled out after him.

"Garak, wait!" Julian called.

Garak was trudging away from camp but Julian caught up to him easily.

"Where are you going? What are you doing? We need to talk about this!" 

"There is nothing to talk about, doctor, because nothing has happened!" Garak insisted as he continued to stare ahead heatedly at the opening expanse of desert and trudge away from the tent encampment.

"Garak this isn't any time to be a stubborn old ass! We've got to discuss this like adults!"

Julian continued to press Garak, who shouted at him in return, when at the edge of the desert Julian finally grabbed Garak's wrist. It was a bad idea for Garak swung at him immediately as though it was an instinctive reflex and knocked Julian on his ass in the sand. Julian scowled up at Garak and rubbed the budding bruise on his jaw.

"I said don't touch me," Garak hissed. He seemed more afraid than truly violent though, and there were touches of anger, but mostly it was some deep fear in his eyes.

"Elim…" Julian said gently from his seated position in the sand. Garak clutched his head with both hands and gave a sort of wail of frustration then sank down into the sand as well.

"I was told it was merely an opening, nothing of concern, that I should forget about it--there weren't any other parts involved," Garak began to ramble, seeming to be talking to himself more than Julian, "when I discovered my difference and asked Mila about it she explained it to me! Tain wanted it closed off when I was born. Having such a vestige was frowned upon by most. But he was called away only a day after my birth for a mission… and Mila never followed through with the procedure. She and Tolan wanted to keep it--after all Tain had already insisted upon my tail being docked. Another vestige, but one that wouldn't have been as easy to hide from him. In any medical screenings I've ever had there was never any mention to me about having other extra organs. Why wouldn't I have been told!"

"It's rare, but sometimes humans are born intersex too. Sometimes one who appears to have a penis will have small, underdeveloped, ovaries. I suppose it's possible that any other reproductive organs you have in there might have been considered too underdeveloped to be functional," Julian said, "it's… quite possible that the pregnancy won't take and that your body will simply reject it in early development. You wouldn't even notice it at that stage. It's too early to tell, and since your body is… rather a mystery to this doctor… I don't know what to do to put your mind at ease other than to tell you that I will be by your side through whatever happens, whatever you decide, it's your body and I will support you, Elim. I'll just… remember not to touch you," Julian gave Garak a small smile.

"You're right, my dear," Garak said, seeming to calm down and settle back into his senses, "it's unlikely my body is capable of an actual pregnancy and delivery. I'm sure this scare will conclude with little fanfare and we'll return to our daily life as per usual."

Julian nodded. A part of him did feel a bit of disappointment. He had gotten ahead of himself but some of the thoughts he had entertained hadn't been bad at all--imagining himself and Garak with a child. Though it would really be for the best if the pregnancy did take. Cardassia wasn't in a state for them to bring a child into it, and Garak's body probably wouldn't hold up well, even if he did have the 'proper' internal structure for it. Lack of nutrition and other factors considered in as well and a larger part of Julian was relieved.

"We should get back and take our spots in the breakfast line," Garak said, "and then you'll go to work in the quarantine tent, and I'll go to work laboring--ah--manual labor," Garak said.

Julian nodded. He saw Garak's planning of their day for what it was; a reliance on routine as a coping method. It was a better coping method than storming away into the desert or activating a neural implant and it was certainly one that Julian could relate to. So he stood himself up, brushed off the back back of his pants, and waited for Garak to fall in beside him so they could walk back to camp together.

-x-

Julian and Garak had just gotten their breakfast rations when any routine they were hoping for was thrown out of line. The camp was suddenly abuzz and people were rushing to greet someone who had just arrived. Whoever it was they must have been important for some even abandoned their breakfasts. Some stayed behind to snatch up the extra food.

Julian and Garak carried their food along with them as they head towards the group to try and figure out what was going on. Julian nudged a woman in front of them.

"Excuse me, but do you know what's happening?" he asked.

"Natima Lang is here!" the woman said eagerly, "she and her followers are trying to re-seat the Detapa Council as governing body of the Union. Many people are calling for her to lead us--to lead Cardassia--out of this darkness."

"A rather heavy burden to be placed upon the shoulders of one person," Julian muttered a bit, and tipped himself up onto his toes to try and see over the shoulders of the people in front of him. He frowned when a very familiar voice assaulted his ears. "Is that… Quark?"

The crowd of tattered, bedraggled, Cardassians split to let Natima and her small entourage through. There was a young Cardassian woman with her whom Julian didn't recognize, but the other two faces he knew well. Quark indeed was at her side and from the sound of it he was complaining about sand fleas, and the heat. But more importantly was the other Ferengi who was with them: Rom, the Grand Nagus of Ferenginar.


	8. Chapter 8

Julian opened his mouth to speak but Quark beat him to it.

 

“So, this is Cardassia—an arid hellscape. Just lovely. My lobes are burning to a crisp! And how do you breathe here? Everything's just dust!”

 

Quark was right. Everything really was dust. The very air was clouded with it and the colors of Quark's suit which had no doubt been bright and gaudy in typical Ferengi fashion were dulled down by several layers of the stuff. Quark gave a small squeak and began to slap at his arm, then his face, then his chest.

 

“And what are these!” the Ferengi cried.

 

“Ah, those would be the sand fleas,” Garak said. He had lapsed into his tailor demeanor for this and Julian was a little surprised. Garak hadn't slid that hat on for quite some time. Julian supposed it was more of an old habit than anything else. Garak and Quark had both been businessmen on the Promenade after all and if not for the 'hellscape' surrounding them they might have just been there once again. Julian gave a small, tight, smile to Garak and brushed the back of Garak's hand with his fingertips.

 

“They don't seem to be a problem for Cardassians, Quark,” Julian said, “I suppose it's difficult to bite something that's largely covered in scales.”

 

“We can get them in some of the ah... more vulnerable areas,” Garak said, “but I'm afraid you'll simply have to deal with them, Quark. We're doing our best to have clean water and food to eat—I'm afraid we're all out of insect repellent.”

 

“They're eating me alive!” Quark squawked and slapped a couple more spots.

 

“Humans have protected themselves from bug bites by covering themselves in mud--” Julian began.

 

“Mud? On Cardassia?” Quark gave out a high pitched laugh to punctuate just how ridiculous Julian's train of thought on that topic was.

 

“Well, I was speaking theoretically, of course,” Julian said.

 

“Your hu-mon theories won't keep these pests from consuming every last drop of my blood! One day Natima will wake up and she'll just find this shell of Quark lying next to her...”

 

“That's not true, brother,” Rom said, speaking up for the first time, “I'd probably find you. I wake up really early.”

 

Quark rolled his eyes.

 

“Well, what a comfort that is to me, Rom,” Quark said. He tucked his teeth behind his lower lip and went quiet.

 

“Ah, now that all the complaining is out of the way,” Julian said, pausing to cast an annoyed look to Quark. After all how dare he whine about bug bites when people on Cardassia were dying of starvation, dehydration, and plague? “what brings all of you to this 'hellscape' as you've so delicately put it?”

 

“Cardassia needs assistance if we're going to survive this,” Natima said, “in the larger cities, and among some forming political factions, it's been suggested we accept the aid that the Federation has offered to us. But even still there are a large number of Cardassians who don't support this idea outright or would simply go along with it because our backs are up against a wall. We really can't afford to turn down any aide—but those in charge have shunned the Federation offers—for now. There are some who would rather endure more death than to accept the terms the Federation has offered us—as though millions and millions of Cardassians lost weren't enough. But... we may have another option now. The Negus has come to negotiate with several political figures in some of the emerging factions. Rom wants to help us,” she said.

 

Rom tipped his head once in a nod and his kind, shy, smile, curved his lips and showed off a few of his snaggleteeth.

 

“Thaaat's right,” Rom said, “it doesn't do anyone in the quadrant any good to see Cardassia... dead.”

 

“How kind,” Garak said with sarcasm.

 

“Have you spoken with the Bajorans about this? Your wife, maybe?” Quark interjected, tilting his head at his brother, “argh!” he slapped at his cheek. Rom grinned.

 

“I think the sandfleas agree with me, brother,” Rom said.

 

“Well, I certainly do,” Julian said, “you're right, and I do hope Cardassia accepts your terms. I've quit Starfleet to help Cardassia because it's the right thing to do—terms or no terms. That's why I joined Starfleet in the first place! But Cardassia doesn't want to join the Federation and accept all of these terms so the Federation just turns its' back!”

 

“Ferengi don't do things because it's 'the right thing to do',” Quark said, “we do it for profit.”

 

Julian's serious expression softened at Quark a bit.

 

“And you expect me to believe you've never done anything at all because it was the 'right thing to do'?” Julian crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't buy it for a moment. The Ferengi could be a little toad but when it came down to it he was more bark than bite.

 

“I swear!” Quark placed his hand over his chest, “never in my life!”

 

“Well, what about that time--” Rom began.

 

“There were no times, Rom!” Quark insisted.

 

Rom smiled at his brother though and the corners of his eyes crinkled. It was obvious that Quark's own brother didn't believe him either.

 

“Alright, but what kind of discussion do you plan to have with Cardassia's foremost political figures? What sort of terms do you intend to put forth and in exchange for what sort of aid?” Garak asked, tilting his head at Rom.

“Why don't we discuss this somewhere... private?” Rom suggested.

 

“Of course, we have a tent just this way. It's hardly large enough for two grown men but if we all hunch down a bit—perhaps I'll be able to pay attention instead of suffering a claustrophobic attack,” Garak was dripping with sarcasm again.

 

“Maybe that rock we visit in the mornings,” Julian suggested, “outside of camp.”

 

“Um...” Rom was tugging at his Negus staff.

 

“Just great, a rock that I can bake myself on,” Quark said. His tone was almost as dripping as Garak's was.

 

“Uhhh...” Rom was still tugging at his staff, “iiiiiit's stuck.”

 

After freeing Rom's staff from the Cardassian sand the little group trekked through the camp and then beyond the opposite boundary until they reached the basking rock that Julian had spoken of. It was quite large and one end of it stuck up from the ground and created a bit of an alcove beneath. It was enough that Quark and Rom could sit under there and get out of the unforgiving heat. Julian was too tall so he sat down in the hot sand with the Cardassians but by now he had grown a bit more used to it than when he'd first arrived.

 

“I hate sand,” Quark said, “it gets into the most uncomfortable places...” he wiggled a bit and frowned.

 

“Was it really necessary to have brought him with you?” Garak asked Natima, and Rom.

 

“Well, he is my brother, and he's Natima's...” Rom glanced to Natima who seemed unsure of how to finish that sentence so she just gave an odd little shrug of her bare shoulder ridges.

 

“He's... here to contribute his... business sense to this issue,” she said, “although if he doesn't stop complaining I might ban him from taking part in the discussion with these politicians.”

 

“A wise idea if ever I've heard one,” Garak said, “I could entertain him for you--”

 

“No, no! That's okay,” Quark said, “your idea of entertainment is probably someone else's idea of torture.”

 

Garak tilted his head at Quark and gave him a slow blink.

 

“I've no idea what you're implying,” Garak said.

 

Julian rolled his eyes.

 

“Alright, I'd say there's been enough banter. Let's talk business with Cardassia. I'm certain that's a topic in which we can all find common ground,” Julian said.

 

Garak nodded in agreement. Quark slapped at his own nose. Natima nudged Rom who was writing Ferengi letters into the sand with his finger.

 

“That's why they needed to bring me,” Quark said.

 

“Actually, I was going to bring Moogie, but she and Zek went to Risa,” Rom said.

 

“Risa! That's where I'd like to be right about now,” Quark said, his shoulders slumping in despair.

 

Rom and Natima begin to discuss their planning and what sort of aid would be offered at what terms. Cardassia needed clean water, food, and infrastructure. Ferenginar needed workers. Rom had gathered several top Ferengi businessmen who were interested in exporting their companies to Cardassia. Bashir brought up the terms 'offshoring' and 'outsourcing' which were the terms humans used for what Rom was talking about. On Ferenginar Rom had made many changes in the way businesses had been run. Unions were no longer limited to Quarks bar. He had passed labor union laws for all Ferengi businesses. He had passed a series of other labor laws and upset many wealthy businessmen but the Ferengi populace in general had been quite pleased with these changes.

 

According to Rom he could appease some of these businessmen who were attempting to unseat him as Negus by pointing them towards business opportunities on Cardassia. If he didn't find some way to appeal to the growing group of wealthy Ferengi who were displeased by the changes he'd brought forth in his short time as Negus, then they might march on the Tower of Commerce one day and toss him off the top of it. Cardassia, Rom noted, had plenty of land and space upon which companies could build their manufacturing hubs, warehouses, and businesses. Cardassia had technology that could enhance production and cut costs. Cardassian laborers would be less expensive to train, pay, and maintain, than Ferengi laborers.

 

Of course at the current state Cardassia needed much more basic things than a jumpstart to their economy. There was the plague epidemic, food and water shortages, and the need for permanent housing instead of just tents and ramshackle camps.

 

Cardassia had few freshwater sources. Water replicators had been used on Cardassia before the Dominion attacks had destroyed the large cities in which the water replicating plants had been housed underground. Even the layers of dessert above them hadn't stood up to the utter decimation the Dominion had brought down upon Cardassia. Most large cities were craters with bits of twisted metal all that remained of the previously flourishing culture.

 

Ferenginar would assist Cardassia with rebuilding their water replication plants and since water was found in abundance on Ferenginar they could even ship freighters full of fresh water to help with the shortages in the meantime. Ferenginar would provide food-aid, and basic medical supplies as well.

 

When Quark began to complain about how 'generous' the offer seemed to be, and then began to quote the Rules of Acquisition, Julian decided that he had had enough of Quark's interruptions of such an important discussion. He grabbed Quark by the elbow and escorted him out of range so that Rom, Natima, and Garak, could continue talking without Quark's particular brand of commentary to flavor it.

 

“You could have some common decency, you know,” Julian said, finally letting go of Quark's elbow.

 

“Alright, but I'm just miserable!” Quark said, “I get this way when I'm miserable--”

 

“So you're _always_ miserable?” Julian lifted an eyebrow.

 

Quark shrugged.

 

“Maybe not always... but you'd be surprised,” Quark said, “it's the fleas—they really don't help, you know, and the sun!”

 

Julian paused and unwound the wrappings he wore on his head to help him combat the sun and heat too. He wrapped them around Quark's head and the tops of his lobes.

 

“That'll help with the sun. Now, the fleas... I'll ask Moset if there are any Cardassian remed--”

 

“Whoa, wait a minute!” Quark startled at Julian's mention of Moset and the turban almost toppled off of his head. Quark reached up to steady the wrappings with both hands, “Moset—that wouldn't be _Crell_ Moset, would it?”

 

“Well... yes, actually,” Julian said. He moved a bit closer to Quark and leaned in. Now he was very interested. He'd been trying for awhile to get more information about Moset out of Garak and other Cardassians but he'd gotten nowhere. Quark would be far easier to get information from than any Cardassian, Julian thought, “what of it?”

 

“What of it? You really don't know?”

 

“Quark...” Julian grabbed Quark's elbow again. The Ferengi stopped in his tracks and Julian narrowed his eyes at him, “tell me about Crell Moset. Now.”

 

“Okay, okay! There are nerves in my elbow, you know. All that pinching hurts! I didn't think hu-mon doctors were supposed to be so rough—you've been around these Cardassians too long!” Quark rubbed his elbow, “who Crell Moset is, what he's done, well it's no secret. Well... maybe to you it is,” Quark amended, “he was on Bajor during the Occupation. I've heard a lot about him—experimenting on people. Blinding people to see how they'd adapt, pouring acid on people to see how long it would take them to heal, infecting healthy people with disease so he could experiment...”

 

Julian's face had gone ashen upon the words 'experimenting on people' and by the end of Quark's last sentence he felt sick to his stomach.

 

“My god—how many people—what--but--” he couldn't form a coherent sentence and then he bit out one word in an angry growl, “Garak.”

 

Julian turned back and began to stomp back towards the rock where Rom, Natima, and Garak were gathered. Quark called out to him but Julian just kept going until he reached the three of them.

 

“Garak. We need to talk,” Julian said coldly, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Ah... but of course, my dear,” Garak got to his feet.

 

“Waaaait! Don't do that! You don't need to do that!” Quark called. Julian watched the Ferengi trying to run towards them but Quark was having trouble with the sand and he just fell over, “he'll kill me!” Quark said in a pathetic, wispy, voice. He was clearly out of breath.

 

“Oh, you won't have to worry about Garak killing you, Quark, because I might just end him first!” Julian glared daggers at Garak who tilted his head and blinked in that innocent way of his—except in this rare moment Garak really wouldn't have known what was going on.

 

“Quark told me about Crell Moset,” Julian said.

 

“Did he,” Garak said, “I... see--”

 

“You didn't tell me. You didn't tell me I was working side by side, day after day, slaving in the hot sun to save your people—alongside a monster!” Julian threw his hands up in frustration. His face was scrunched and angry and he was shouting.

 

“He did find a cure for the Fostossa virus, in fact he was given an award for that,” Garak said.

 

“An award doesn't excuse his actions, and infecting healthy people to find a cure is unethical!” Julian shouted.

 

“It depends upon whose ethics you're taking into consideration, my dear--”

 

“ _Don't_ 'my dear' me, Garak!”

 

Julian stormed off towards the camp and he went straight to the quarantine tent where Moset was working in the back behind a set of secured flaps that usually hid their research area. Julian had insisted upon leaving those open so that they could keep an eye on the rest of the patients as they worked. But he would come in quite often to find them closed and many times rather than disturbing Moset, Julian would tend to the patients and do his rounds to check on them, leaving Moset to whatever he was doing for hours. He could have been hurting people right under Julian's very nose.

 

Julian tore the flaps apart and found Moset with a tiny Cardassian boy.

 

“WHAT are you DOING with him?” Julian shouted.

 

The boy startled and began to sniffle. He crouched away from both Julian and Moset holding one of his hands in the other. Julian noted a few drops of dark blood hit the sand beneath him.

 

“Trying to find a cure for this plague,” Moset said, “what are _you_ doing? I've been here since sun-up working to help my people—and you're supposed to be assisting—and you're just now showing up. Is your dedication to save my people waning now? You could take Garak and leave Cardassia if you so pleased, couldn't you?”

 

“Oh, I'm not leaving,” Julian sneered, “I'm going to make sure you don't hurt anyone else!” he knelt down motioned for the child to come towards him. The boy looked from Moset, to Julian, and sank further back into the shadowy corner.

 

“The boy is an orphan. The greatest thing he can do with his life is to serve Cardassia—and I'm helping him to do that. These children will help me to find a cure,” Moset said.

 

Julian noted Moset's hands. In one was a piece of metal that had been sharpened into a knife. In the other... a handful of rotted, infected, scales.

 

“You... you put that illness into this boy's wound. You've infected him... on purpose...”

 

“Not yet,” Moset said in that oddly sweet voice. Julian shivered as though insects were crawling up and down his spine, “you've interrupted us.”

 

“I certainly have,” Julian said, “come here, please... I won't hurt you,” he said gently to the boy in the shadows.

 

“These children have stronger immune systems than many adults, and especially elders, have. Oh, not the _very_ young ones, of course. I've been doing these experiments all over Cardassia. A few of the children have fought the disease off but I can't figure out how... at least not yet,” Moset said, “what are a few dead when so many more can be saved?”

 

The boy finally crawled out of his hiding spot and into Julian's arms.

 

Julian whisked him away to the other portion of the tent and searched for a bit of water, ointment, and clean bandages to wrap his hand with.

 

“You're very brave to trust me with your hand,” Julian said, as he washed the cut on the child's palm, “what's your name, then? Mine's Julian.”

 

“Dorim Ketar,” the boy said. He continued to sniffle but there weren't any tears. As far as Julian could tell crying wasn't something that Cardassians could do.

 

“Alright, Dorim. I want you to promise me you won't ever let that man touch you again,” he said, “he's not very nice.”

 

Julian was trying his best to keep the bite out of his voice but he was still boiling with anger. 'Very Nice' was said with a bit more venom than he would have normally preferred.

 

“But... I was going to help Cardassia,” the boy said, “and you're... smoothface,” the boy said. He reached up with his uninjured hand to touch Julian's cheek.

 

“You're far too little to be worrying about all of Cardassia,” Julian said, “please...”

 

Dorim held Julian's gaze for a few moments and then finally he nodded hesitantly.

 

“Someone must help us...” Dorim said softly.

 

“I'm going to help,” Julian said gently, and finished the bandages, “there. Now that ointment should help it to stop hurting.”

 

“It didn't hurt,” Dorim said, tipping his chin proudly.

 

Now the child was taken care of but the problem remained of what to do about Moset. The other doctor, if he could be called that, had come out and was shaking his head sorrowfully.

 

Julian lifted Dorim and managed to hold him on his hip despite the child being a bit too big for that, and Julian's lack of hips. He grabbed Moset's wrist in his other hand and asked a Cardassian woman who helped them tend patients to keep an eye on the others for a moment. He dragged Moset out of the tent only to find Garak nearby.

 

Natima was hanging around nearby but it seemed that the Ferengi must have gone to seek out a cooler area or some shade.

 

“He was experimenting on children, Garak,” Julian snapped.

 

There were few other Cardassians hanging around the middle of camp by that time of day. Most were working in their labor groups to clear up debris and other things.

 

Dorim gave Garak a timid wave with his bandaged hand.

 

“To find a cure for this plague!” Moset insisted.

 

“Have you made any progress?”

 

“Garak!” Julian exclaimed, “what is the matter with you! Surely you can't condone this! How much can Cardassia mean to you if you'll throw away the very future of Cardassia that is these children! What if someone had experimented on you as a child, Garak? What if—what if—what if it was _our_ child?”

 

There was silence. Garak placed his hands at either side of his belly. There wasn't yet any sort of dome or bump to show that there was something inside but they both knew that a life was growing in there—beyond all odds it seemed.

 

“Cardassia comes before all—family is important—but it is still second place. If any Cardassian was asked to give their child to benefit the whole of Cardassia—they would! That is Cardassia! But I haven't gone asking for anyone's children! These are orphans—no one wants them, they have no status, no purpose... well, I have given them a purpose...” Moset said.

 

Garak had been looking down at the space between his hands and when Moset finished he tilted his head up slowly to meet Moset's gaze. He held it for a moment then looked to Dorim, and then past him...

 

“Garak...?” Julian was worried at that look in Garak's eyes. It was obvious that he was looking at something that wasn't really there. Garak seemed troubled—and then his face scrunched a bit as if he was in pain, and his breathing had changed.

 

“Enough children have died. I have pulled their bodies from the rubble... small... children... and pieces of... limbs...”

 

Julian realized exactly what was happening. Garak was having flashbacks. He sat Dorim to his feet and directed him to go to Natima who was standing nearby. He tapped Garak gently on the elbow. He didn't want to startle him but needed his attention, to bring him out of what was happening to him. Garak was babbling about the children, panicking, gasping. Julian grabbed his shoulders.

 

“Garak!”

 

“...their dead little faces! Dust!” Garak paused, panting, his eyes snapping this way and that and then finally... onto Julian's face that was just in front of his.

 

Garak didn't say anything but he held Julian's gaze so that Julian knew he was back. The anger that had balled in his gut when he'd found out that Garak had let him work alongside that monster Moset began to edge away and he just felt so deeply sorry for all of Cardassia. For everything.

 

“Natima, don't let him go back to that quarantine tent,” Julian said, waving a hand towards Moset. Natima nodded.

 

Julian ushered Garak to their tent and eased Garak down onto the sand. Garak continued to twitch with agitation and anxiety. His eyes unfocused for periods of time, and then he came back to himself, and even though Cardassians couldn't shed tears but it was obvious by the noises Garak was making that he was crying. Julian held him a bit, just rested Garak's head in his lap, and stroked his long hair, so dark and slick when it wasn't coated in layers of dust and grime. Julian pressed a gentle kiss to Garak's chufa. Once Garak's attack had subsided he seemed very drained physically and emotionally. Julian made him promise to stay in the tent and rest and in a moment that wasn't very Garak-like, Garak agreed with a small nod of his head. No protest at all.

 

Julian took Moset back to the quarantine tent to work because he couldn't think of what else to do with him. He simply made sure not to let the man out of his sight and to be right next to him at any time he interacted with a patient. By evening Julian was exhausted by his own emotions, the heat, the patients, and babysitting Moset. He stood in the ration line for dinner but only nibbled a bite or two then gave the rest to Dorim who hadn't left Natima's side. Quark was cuddled up next to Natima as they both ate and Quark gave Julian a small nod of thanks when he handed his food to Dorim. Quark wasn't whacking the fleas and he didn't seem to be protesting the food either.

 

“I cut my hand very badly when I was your age,” Quark said to Dorim, gesturing at the bandage on Dorim's hand, “I tried to steal my brother's latinum tooth sharpener. It was beautiful... but painful. Sliced my palm right to the bone. Moogie says she could have heard me scream from the other side of Ferenginar. She rushed in and said 'Quark, you're bleeding all over my floor! That'll cost a lot of latinum to get cleaned!' and then I looked down at the floor... and saw all the blood... and I fainted,” Quark bobbled his head a bit as though just recounting this story made him woozy, “here, kid, why don't you have the rest of this? I'm not feeling so well.”

 

Quark handed the rest of his rations to Dorim as well. Julian thought about bringing up how that was the 'right thing to do' as a little reference to their talk earlier. But instead he and Quark just exchanged glances of appreciation for each other and Julian left them to finish their evening together.

 

Julian put in a few more hours at the quarantine tent but when it got too dark to continue he took Moset to the tent that he and Garak shared.

 

“I want to keep an eye on Garak,” Julian said, “but I need to watch you too. You're going to stay just outside this tent all night. Sleep if you want, but I'll be awake, making sure you can't hurt anyone else.”

 

“You have to sleep at some point,” Moset said.

 

Julian's enhancements could let him go without sleep for an impressive period of time. But with the strain of everything even he was becoming worn down. Julian eventually drifted to sleep despite his best efforts. When he woke later Garak and Moset were both gone. Julian went straight to the quarantine tent but Moset wasn't there. He came back to the center of camp, hopping and stepping over Cardassians who were still sleeping. He veered around Natima, Quark, Rom, and Dorim, who were all sleeping in a pile, and then he found Garak just standing in the middle of camp and watching the sun slide along the edge of the horizon. Red and orange streaks seemed to slide across the little ripples of sand as though the expanse of barren land that stretched out from that point was some sort of sea.

 

“Garak?” Julian said quietly, stepping up beside the Cardassian.

 

“Yes, my dear?” Garak didn't take his eyes from the horizon but the corners of his lips did curl a bit.

 

“Have you seen Crell Moset?”

 

“Seen him? Ah—yes. He was outside our tent when I woke up not long ago,” Garak said, “he ah... said that he had other business to tend to elsewhere.”

 

“Elsewhere?” Julian lifted his eyebrow. Garak was up to something.

 

“Elsewhere, yes. I didn't ask any specifics. After all, what business is it of mine to go snooping in one's private affairs?” Garak said.

 

“Do you think he'll come back, Garak?”

 

There was a long pause between the two of them before Garak answered.

 

“I believe he said that he'll be gone for a very long time. I should imagine you won't be troubled with him any longer.”

 

Julian laced his fingers through Garak's. He knew what Garak meant by this. He wasn't the naive young man he had once been. He knew what Garak was capable of. If Garak said that Moset wouldn't cause him any more trouble, then Julian believed him, and he was glad that no one else would have to suffer under Crell Moset. Julian gave Garak's hand a small squeeze and with a coldness and finality that surprised himself Julian said just one thing in return--

 

“Good.”

 


	9. Storm Clouds On The Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of cannibalism, and character brushes with death.

The following weeks weighed heavily upon Julian's shoulders. He was running the quarantine tent virtually alone again since Moset had 'disappeared' and even with his enhancements he was growing exhausted. He avoided Garak's questions about when he had last slept, or eaten, and kept himself immersed in his work to find a cure for the plague. If anything fatality rates seemed to be increasing. Several were dying each day in the tent and when news came from other cities and camps the same seemed to be happening in those locations too. 

There was also news about the negotiations with the Nagus. Cardassia's political system was still in disarray and the two main groups who were fighting for power among Cardassia's wounded populace had come to a stalemate. One side was ready to accept the agreement while the other side refused and sought to rally supporters of their side by reminding their people that Cardassia had fallen because they had allowed themselves to be under the rule of another party, and that bowing down to the Ferengi empire, or the Federation, or any other group would only make the Union a subjugated state once again. The claims were often outrageous but they appealed to traditionalists, and the rampant xenophobia that was reinforced in Cardassian culture. Yet all the indicators were showing that if Cardassia didn't accept help from somewhere the prognosis was quite bleak. Even still it seemed that a great many would rather die as 'free' Cardassians than have to rely on outside sources. Never mind that Cardassia had plundered Bajor for such resources—that had been different. Taking by military force, subjugating others for the gain of Cardassia, were patriotic and the greater power had the right to take what they could. The side that would see Cardassia accepting 'handouts' and standing beside others in cooperation was generally apologetic for the atrocities committed against Bajor. 

People of both sides were becoming increasingly unsettled. 

In the camp where Julian and Garak lived people were just as unsettled there as they were elsewhere. Many were beginning to grumble and complain that the brilliant Federation doctor could find no cure for the disease. Being a Terran, Julian hadn't been accepted by many Cardassians, despite the amount of time he had now spent among them. But up until recently his presence had been mostly tolerated. Most people had looked upon him with distrust, but some had looked upon him with the wide, wet, eyes, of people who desperately needed something or someone to give them a shred of hope.

Lately, however, with the death tolls from the plague increasing, Julian found that his Cardassian camp mates were becoming hostile towards him. In the food lines he was bumped, prodded, hissed at, and he often heard the derogatory term 'smoothface' huffed and growled at him. He heard people muttering about how he was useless. Why was he here when he must know next to nothing about Cardassian medicine? How could an ignorant Terran be expected to help us? There were unkind words about his relationship with Garak and the child that Garak was carrying. 

Just that morning in the ration line someone had demanded Julian to leave, to take his whore lover with him, and their bastard, mutant, child, and get out of camp. Julian had to stop Garak choking the man who had said it.

Throughout the camp tensions were piling high like black thunderheads rising against a sickly sky. Even the weather seemed to reflect the hostility brewing on Cardassia as a rare storm had began to form in the distance at the horizon where the desert became flat against the yellowish sky. People were gathering stones to help keep their tents in place against the rising wind. Some were piling them to build better shelters. Garak had been lifting stones and surrounding their tent with them despite Julian's repeated instructions for him not to exert himself. 

But Julian couldn't be there to watch over Garak and chastise him for doing things he shouldn't when he was holed up the majority of his time in the quarantine tent. While most of the camp were preparing as best as they could against the storm, Julian and an old woman who had agreed to assist him, were carrying dead Cardassian corpses to the trenches outside the settlement. They'd become known as the Death Pits and each time Julian visited them he cringed upon the sight of countless corpses piled on top of each other and dehydrated in the Cardassian sun to become mummies. 

Julian had taken off his makeshift turban an wound it around his neck, face, and head to protect against the slinging sand that was being picked up by the rising wind. He and the old woman were carrying another plague wasted body to the Death Pits. Upon leaving that one Julian noticed a small huddle of Cardassians near the edge of the pit disturbing the bodies.

“Hey! Hey there! What are you doing?” Julian called to them. He moved towards them and a couple of the hunched figures backed away while another one hissed and bared his teeth as though he was feral. His black hair hung in long knotted ropes around his face and his dark eyes were barely visible in his deep eye sockets, beneath the hood of his brow ridges, one of which was twisted with scarring. 

“Leave us be!” the man cried, “we don't take the ones lost to the plague!” he said. 

Julian's brow's knitted together beneath his wrappings. He didn't understand what the man meant by 'take'. What would they be doing taking the dead? Was it some sort of religious ritual? There had been more open practice of religious rituals in the camp as of late and it was said that many Cardassians were returning to Oralius and the ghosts of their ancient religious practices in these times of desperation. But Julian noticed a withered arm clutched in one of the man's hands. There were ragged holes in the dehydrated flesh and after a moment Julian realized what was happening with a dread that drilled deep into the pit of his gut. 

“O-oh... no...” he took a clumsy step back from the man who raised the arm and sunk his teeth in. His head thrashed on his powerful Cardassian neck and tore away a hunk of flesh with a tough ripping sound. 

Julian's stomach heaved but since it had been so long since he'd eaten, nothing came out of him, except a pained little moan. He hurried back to camp through the sand and the wind. The old woman had already gone and he wanted to leave the cannibals behind him and pretend that he'd never seen them—though that of course would never happen. Just when he was sure nothing could get worse the people around him were plunging into an even deeper hell. The rations were never enough. People were barely surviving on them. There were still hunts being had to try and supplement the rations but by now the animals that had drawn near to attack the weak Cardassians were few. The skilled hunters had driven their numbers down and the rest of the animals had seemed to begin to associate the camp with 'danger' now rather than 'opportunity'. 

Julian went past the quarantine tent and headed straight for the little scrap of canvas that he shared with Garak. Garak was piling flat stones around the tent to help protect it from the gusts. As Julian approached a nasty gale swept in over the sand and the loose canvas began to beat and flap all around them. Cardassians fell to the ground and covered their heads to protect their faces from the driving sand. One of the tents was ripped away. The driving sand had sawed through the last rope holding it securely to a stake and the tent was whipped to the other side of the camp. 

When the gust subsided Julian trudged through the sand and dust towards Garak and sat down next to him tipping his head back wearily against the piled stones. 

“This is madness,” Julian said.

“This is survival,” Garak replied. He spat a mouthful of sand. 

Julian ached to just take Garak away from this place and plant him somewhere where they could both heal from this nightmare and raise their child with plenty. But that was a very selfish dream and Julian knew that Garak would never agree. Garak had waited a very long time to return to his home and Julian suspected there was nothing that would push him into giving that home up now—no matter how hostile and bleak the situation became. 

In the distance lightening etched a spidery web across the sky.

“If the rain comes down too quickly, the sand won't be able to absorb it, and we'll flood,” Julian said. It was just adding more despair onto the pile to predict such a thing but Julian preferred to focus on the oncoming storm instead of the cannibalism he had witnessed, “god, if only I could think of something positive. Something good to come out of this,” Julian said.

Of course there was their child to consider but Julian found that as the days passed and he carted more and more Cardassians to the Death Pits that his attachment to the fetus growing inside of Garak became more and more distant. He had already calculated the chances of it surviving and with all of the factors piled up against it, it seemed unlikely that their child would be brought into the world successfully, and even if it was, unless there were changes by the time it was born, it wasn't likely it would survive very long. Julian saw dead children and infants every day. The plague and starvation did not play favorites.

“Cardassia has stripped away your cloying Federation optimism,” Garak said, “what a shame.”

Julian knew that Garak was being sarcastic. His friend had never been the optimistic type. Garak had always been realistic with shades of darkness thrown in and for a while they had counterbalanced each other well. The slipping on Julian's behalf had began after he'd spent time in the prison camp and as he continued to learn the harshest lessons of life he found that he was becoming more cynical and jaded. 

“A shame? I do believe you're lying, Mister Garak,” Julian said, “you wouldn't think it a shame that I've traded my rootbeer for a bottle of burning, bitter, kanar.”

“I suppose not,” Garak said, “but please don't speak of kanar—I would do just about anything for a mouthful just now.”

“I think I would too,” Julian admitted. He could feel Garak peering at him curiously in that wide-eyed way of his.

“The temperature is falling,” Garak noted, “this storm is going to claim many of us, I think. Some have decided to flee to the more rugged areas in the East and find caves to hide out in until it's passed us over. I do hope they make it in time. It's coming up quickly now.”

“Into the tent with you,” Julian said, “the wind's picking up again. Damn—I wish I could stay with you!”

Julian and Garak got to their feet and Garak ducked into the tent just as the sand began to whip around them again.

“Where are you going?” Garak shouted over the screaming wind. Julian made an awkward grab for his protective head wrappings when the wind caught the tail of it and threatened to unwind it.

“I've got to stay with the ill!” Julian shouted back, “I can't leave them! Stay here!”

Had Julian not been genetically altered he wouldn't have been able to push on against the wind. It was more than enough to knock an average man to the ground, and even to take down a sturdy Cardassian, but Julian managed to push himself against it and after what had seemed like years he had made it back to the quarantine tent. His muscles ached from the exertion and now he was really feeling the exhaustion. But he had things to do and adrenaline kicked in and melted away the ache and fatigue in an instant. He began work on securing the quarantine tent against the raging winds. The sand pelted and sprayed against the canvas. The sound of it was enough to drown out the cries of the frightened patients all around him.

Then the darkness came.

It fell suddenly and seemed to usurp everything. It was as though the sun had been blotted from the sky and night had come in the middle of the day. Julian pushed back against an illogical and deep dread that threatened to settle over him: that the darkness would never end now that it had settled in.

The rain fell suddenly in sheets and together with the whipping sand it all came together in a deafening roar that threatened to overwhelm Julian's senses. 

He settled onto the ground next to a crying child and pulled the girl close. She was shaking with fear and from the sudden chill and she felt like a sack of rattling bones in his arms. The scent of the hammering rain was strong and it seemed to somehow intensify the smell of sick and death all around him. The pitch dark tent lit up in a brief and vibrant flash of lightening that crackled as it tore through the sky. There was barely a pause before the crash of thunder like a starship exploding above them. It went on, and on, and when there was finally an ebb to the noise Julian could hear the weeping and sobbing all around him.

“Make them stop, make them stop!” the girl in his arms was crying, “please make them stop! Make the blasting stop!” she screamed and writhed in Julian's arms.

He realized that she thought Cardassia was being destroyed all over again by the Jem'Hadar and he wondered how many other Cardassians were losing their minds to the post-traumatic nightmares that twisted the thunder and lightening into their worst memories and fears. He thought of Garak alone in their tent—Garak with his mind barely holding together sometimes, Garak with his claustrophobia holed up in a tent in the dark, Garak and the danger of his pregnancy, malnutrition, and stress, combined into one horrific ball of dread in Julian's heart. He should have stayed with Garak. He should have stayed.

Julian sat the girl down next to some of the huddled adults who took her in and tried to calm her as best as they could in the midst of their own suffering and fright. Julian was torn about leaving his patients but he needed to go to Garak. 

He flung himself out into the storm and was immediately soaked. The darkness around him was so total that he had no idea which way to go to get back to the tent he shared with Garak. He was soaked all the way up his shins with puddling water as the rain fell faster than the sand could absorb it. He paused to get a sense of the wind. He knew from which direction the storm had come and based on that he could figure out which way he needed to go to reach his destination. It was just a matter of keeping himself from getting disoriented. Julian sat his mind to the task and pushed on. He needed to make it before the wind began to whip up again but even without it the sheer amount of water falling and the darkness which was only occasionally lit by arcs of lightening made his attempt difficult enough as it was. 

With each flash of lightening Julian paused and allowed the brief sear of light to imprint into his mind and then he used the image against the darkness to keep himself oriented. Finally he had made it back and after clawing away one of the stones holding the tent flap in place he crawled into the tent.

“Garak!” he called, “I'm sorry—I don't know what I was thinking! I—I should've stayed here with you.”

“Oh, don't worry about me, my dear,” Garak called to him from a corner of darkness, “I'm having the time of my life.”

Julian crawled up to Garak and wrapped his long limbs around him. Garak was trembling and cold. Water was running in through gaps where the sand was washing out between the bottom of the canvas and the ground. Some of the patches Garak had sewn onto the roof of the tent had been ripped away too and water was pouring in from there. Garak had his fingers jammed into his ear holes. 

“Are you alright?” Julian asked.

“Perfect. Never better,” Garak shouted, “Cardassians just love to be wet, and cold—and the canvas isn't closing in on me at all. I'm not bothered... one... bit.”

The anxiety was quite obvious in Garak's voice though. Everything from the pitch, to the pauses, to the breathing between the words told Julian about his partner's mental state. 

“It came upon upon us so quickly—it might be over just as quickly too,” Julian said.

“Ah—so you do have a few drops of that Federation positivity left in you yet, my dear. How...”

“Charming?” 

“Oh, I was thinking 'disgusting' but if you prefer to delude yourself,” Garak said.

The bantering between them was familiar and comforting to Julian and he suspected it was to Garak as well. The Cardassian's trembling wasn't quite as intense now as it had been. 

But the wind rallied against them again and the unforgiving noise refused to allow them anymore words. The water began to flow in more violently. The sand was being washed out from beneath the piled stones and the wind was whipping in and threatening to shred their only meager protection. The sand pelting against the canvas was fraying their tent at the seams. 

“We can't stay here!” Julian shouted after awhile. The sand beneath them was wet and treacherous. Julian could feel them sinking into it and if there weren't any supportive materials beneath this area they could very well get sucked in and just drown in the collapsing sand and rising waters, “we should've gone to the caves! We need—we need stable ground!”  
“The basking rock!” Garak shouted.

It was outside the boundaries of their camp and Julian wasn't sure they could make it. But they had to try something. At least going in that direction the wind would be behind them instead of pushing them back.

Julian grabbed one of the fraying ropes that had once held one of the corners of their tent to a stake. He ripped it free of the canvas it was clinging to and tied one end around his wrist, and the other around Garak's. This way they couldn't become disoriented from one another in the darkness.

“Let me lead!” Garak called, “I can see better in the darkness,” he said, “and I have a phaser.”

“What do we need a phaser for?” Julian called.

“We're in danger of sinking into the sand with each step. We don't know if there's support underneath it, or not, and it's washing away! As quickly as we're sinking here, I think it's safe to say there isn't any solid support here!” Garak said, as they scrambled out of the tent, “but—I've been saving the charges in my phaser—and this will help us!”

Once out of the tent and standing against the whipping sand and rain Garak blasted his phaser at the ground directly in front of them. The heat of the beam turned the sand to glass. The water flowing over it cooled it immediately and made it safer to step on than the treacherous sinking sand. 

Garak etched them a path across the camp and their steps were slow and precise but they seemed to be winning against the storm. Each time the lightening flashed Julian could see their progress towards the outer edges of the camp. He began to believe that they truly would make it. 

They were feet away from the Death Pits that surrounded the outer edge of camp when Garak's phaser sputtered and died. They had to move on without its protection and just hope for the best. But here the waters were rising to Julian's knees. He could feel hard things like stones or bits of debris pushing up against his legs and wedging themselves under his feet. Now they were also in danger of falling over debris in the water and being swept away into the flood waters. Even at knee height that was enough to drown someone and the water was sweeping around them quickly driven by the lashing wind and the rain that refused to let up. 

With the next flash of lightening the horror only intensified. Julian realized that the water wasn't just full of rocks and debris—they were wading through bones and pieces of corpses. The Death Pits were flooding and they were vomiting forth their dead. 

As they approached the flooded pits the edge of one of them gave away and sank down and even more bodies spilled out. There were bridges built of rubble and piled stones so that the pits could be crosse but the water was rising above them. It seemed impossible that they could get across.

“Garak!” Julian shouted into the blasting tempest, “do you know how to swim?”

“I'm a desert reptile!” Garak shouted back, “but luckily, the Obsidian Order trains its operatives for all sorts of unlikely scenarios!”

“Yes or no would've been fine!” Julian shouted back at him.  


“Yes!” Garak called.

“Alright then—we'll have to synchronize our strokes since we're tied together! We can do this so long as we're working together!” Julian doubted his own words. But they couldn't go back now. 

Glancing over his shoulder at the next flash of lightening, Julian could see the camp behind them sinking into the desert and filling with water. His heart clenched as he thought of his patients drowning. None of them would've been strong enough find safer space or to make their way against the storm. It felt so wrong to have left them behind without trying to help save them at all. It was against everything Julian had been taught as a doctor. But there wouldn't have been any way he could have helped them. They had all underestimated how much time they had had to prepare against the storm, and none of them could have predicted the intensity with which it would ravage the camp. He could only think of saving Garak now.

The floodwaters were cold and they were surging quickly. It was difficult enough for Julian to swim against. He wasn't certain how Garak would handle this. But he could still feel Garak tied to him with the rope. He could feel the Cardassian's movements, swimming with him, pushing on. And then the wind screamed and with such power it pushed the floodwaters up over Julian's head and he flapped his arms striking bones and corpses. His feet were tangling in them as he kicked and the water was thick and gritty beneath the surface and full of sand. The rope was biting into his wrist and tugging against him as Garak fought too. If he was underwater then it was no doubt he had pulled Garak in along after him. Julian struggled against the water but he was disoriented now and not even certain which way was up towards oxygen and safety. This was it—he and Garak were going to die together and become lost to the hoards of dead in the pits. 

Julian continued to fight. He didn't want to give in. His genetic enhancements made him able to hold his breath for a long period of time so he could keep going, keep trying, but he had no idea how long Garak could stay submerged. 

The tugging on the rope had ceased. It had gone slack and when Julian tried to swim with that arm it felt like a dead weight was attached.

Julian's other hand closed around a fist full of sand and rocks and with all of his strength he drew the other one forward, the one that was linked to this terrible dead weight, and gripped the sand and rock with that one too. The sand was falling away but there was still enough structure that he could hold on and begin to pull himself up and out of the Death Pits. His head broke the surface of the rushing water and he gasped. He hauled himself out onto the other side, gripped the rope, and began to pull. Garak broke the surface and Julian dragged him up onto the bank. They were on the other side of the pits now but Garak wasn't moving. 

“Garak!” Julian shouted into the raging sky. The lightening slithered and wove across the sky behind him marking the black backdrop with jagged electrical teeth. The thunder rumbled and Julian fell to the wet sand and slammed his clenched fists into the little pocket just below Garak's sternum.

“Breathe, damn you! You can't die on me now!” Julian shouted.

A gurgle of water spewed from Garak's lips and he began to cough and choke. Julian sat him up and curled his arm around him protectively in the rain and water while Garak coughed and sputtered. At last Garak tried to get to his feet but his knees buckled.  


“You're not going to like this—but I'm going to carry you!” Julian said.

He didn't care what Garak thought of it. Garak was alive. That was all that mattered right now. Julian lifted Garak onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry and hauled them forwards towards their basking rock. Finally they made it. The relief Julian felt when his feet hit solid rock instead of the sinking sand and rushing water was tremendous. He sank down his knees as the fatigue took him. With Garak's added weight on his shoulders it hurt—but he didn't care.

Julian lay Garak down on the highest part of the rock and curled up next to him.

When Julian woke up the first thing he realized was that he felt dry, and warm. It was a confusing feeling because the last thing he remembered was being submerged in cold water with bones gripping at his ankles. And then--

“Garak!” Julian sat up suddenly and turned to find Garak curled up next to him. He shook him vigorously.

“Oooh—ow...” Garak moaned.

“My god—fuck--you're alive,” Julian crashed their sand split lips together for a desperate kiss.

“The rain...” Garak said after Julian broke the kiss.

“It's stopped. I've no idea how long we've been here... or how we survived,” Julian said, “let me have a look at you,” Julian shifted into doctor mode. Garak had nearly died. He needed to check him over a bit if only to reassure himself that he was in one piece. 

Julian opened Garak's tunic and pressed his ear to his chest. It would have been more helpful if he had the proper instrument for listening but at least his hearing was enhanced. He could hear Garak's heartbeat which was steady and strong but there was also some noise in his lungs. He probably hadn't been able to cough all of the water out. Julian would need to watch him for signs of upper respiratory infection following the trauma.

“Ooh,” Garak winced.

Julian looked down to see that Garak was sporting a nice bruise under his sternum.

“I'm sorry about that, but... it was rather necessary,” Julian said.

He palpated Garak's lower ribs carefully and Garak hissed when he touched a spot on one of his transverse ribs. Julian recalled that this spot had been one of the broken ones after Garak had once gotten into a scuffle with some Klingons. It didn't feel broken again but it was possible the spot was bruised or had sustained a hairline fracture.

Julian's hands moved lower to Garak's belly.

It was still too early for any hump to show that there was a pregnancy, and given the lack of resources, it was unlikely Garak's belly would grow much before he delivered the egg anyway. Julian palpated Garak's lower abdomen carefully. It was difficult to tell if anything had changed. But if Garak had been without oxygen for too long it could have affected the child too.  


“It's still alive,” Garak said, “I can sense it. If I concentrate hard enough... yes... I can feel a very tiny heartbeat. I'm not one to trust hunches, but... call it a 'mothers' instinct. I think our egg is well, despite my brush with death.”

“Alright, Garak,” Julian said. He zipped Garak's tunic, then gave him a nudge, “you told me you could swim, you know!”

“Yes, I did,” Garak said, “but you didn't ask me if I could swim well.”

“I'll be sure to be more specific next time we've got to cross a flooding pit of corpses,” Julian responded dryly. He was gazing out over the landscape. It looked so changed. In the distance it appeared that most of the camp had disappeared into a sinkhole. 

“God,” Julian said, “do you think... that anyone survived? I don't know if it's safe enough to go back and see—but there might be survivors who need our help.”

After a small debate about it they decided to return and see if there were any survivors near the outer edge of the camp that looked to be more stable. There were bodies washed up everywhere, tangles of canvas, and bits of rope. Julian and Garak were still joined together by theirs. Julian noticed some of his meager medical equipment half submerged in water and sand. Here and there a few Cardassians were hovering around or trying to scavenge. 

“I think anyone who has survived this storm must move on now,” Garak said, “there's nothing here that can be salvaged, and the sinkhole could expand.”

Julian nodded gravely.

He noticed the old woman who had been his aide in the quarantine tent. She was alive, sitting in the wet sand looking shocked, and cradling her arm.

Julian knelt beside her. He could feel a break in her arm. After warning her it was going to hurt he set the bone with a yank. He found a scrap of metal, untied the rope between himself and Garak, and used the two to make a splint. When that was finished he removed his outer shirt and fashioned a sling for it.

“That's the best I can do,” Julian said, “I don't have any other materials to work with...”

“Julian,” Garak said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you have done all that you can do here. We need to find another camp.”

Julian's hazel eyes were swimming with tears. There was just so much pain and loss all around him and what could he do? He hadn't been able to help the plague sufferers—at least not yet—and now in the aftermath of the storm he was left yet again with no way to help.

“Alright,” Julian said, getting to his feet.

Julian and Garak began to walk. At the outskirts of camp a warbling dog-like sound of a riding hound greeted them. The large hound rand up to them and snuffled at their feet and jammed its wet scaly nose into each of their crotches to say hello.

“Well, it's quite tame,” Julian said, “this must have been someone's pet.”

“Yes,” Garak said, “it certainly was. I haven't seen Ekou since the Jem'Hadar attack. None of Tain's hounds were to be found. I was certain I wouldn't see any of them again. How ironic it should be Ekou.”

Garak reached out to the hound and stroked its nose. The hound's forked tongue lulled out of its mouth and it began to thump its back leg happily.

“Ironic? Why?” Julian asked.

“Tain hated this hound,” Garak said, “he couldn't train it and was going to kill it—but I managed to talk him out of it.

“A good thing you did,” Julian said, “we can use all the help we can get.”

“Indeed,” Garak nodded.

“Will he let us ride, then?” Julian asked, extending his hand and allowing Ekou to sniff it.

“He wouldn't ever allow Tain to ride him,” Garak said, “but he liked me. Ekou—be still,” Garak commanded.

Ekou went as still as he could but he kept wiggling his massive rump in anticipation of attention and he gave a little high pitched whine. Garak climbed onto his back and Julian followed him and seated himself behind Garak careful not to bump his sore rib as he encircled Garak's waist with his arms. Ekou gave a happy swoosh of his great tufted tail. 

“If only he would have showed up earlier,” Garak said, “we could have swam him across the Death Pit.”

“Yes, but we're alive,” Julian said, “and we're together. That's what matters.”

Ekou gave a happy little bark and set off with Garak and Julian on his back.

“What does his name mean, anyway?” Julian asked, “Ekou?”

“Oh, Ekou was the eighth born of his litter. Ekou simply means 'eight',” Garak explained, “Tain was never very creative with names. I would have called him Ba'ou. That's the sound a riding hound makes.”

“Ah, ever the creative visionary,” Julian said, “I can see why you were such a wonderful tailor.”

“My dear,” Garak said, “I was terrible tailor.”


	10. Three's Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Gross things, pregnancy/egg laying, death (no major character death).

Culat City

University of Culat

Seaside Campus

 

Culat City city was situated on the Bay of Kinar near the Ba'aten Penninsula. The desert stretched to the water's edge there, sweeping towards the long expanse of the bay in beautiful dunes that shifted with the winds, sloping down to silver beaches that met the shore. Garak had directed them this way after they had fled the sink hole disaster of Cardassia City on the back of Ekou. The hound had carried his riders on a long journey. They had passed by and stayed in several tenements and camps along the way but Garak had been adamant about settling in Culat. That was where Kelas Parmak was from and Julian and Garak had both agreed that it would be good for Garak to have the attention of a Cardassian doctor while he was carrying their egg—and Garak wanted Kelas.

Parmak had been at the Cardassia City camp when Julian had first arrived. He had heard the name around, and knew that Parmak had been giving out medication and aid to people there, but they actually hadn't crossed paths, or if they had, Julian had not been unaware of it. While Julian had been hip deep in dealing with the plague, Parmak had not. He'd been tending to nutritional needs, injuries, other illnesses, and pregnancies: Julian recalled having asked Garak if he could send Parmak to help in the quarantine tent. But Garak had explained to him that Parmak had been assigned other duties and that his specialties had been obstetrics, psychiatry, and studies in gender and sexuality, not pathology or study of infectious disease. 

It was Parmak leaving that had brought Crell Moset to the camp at Cardassia City. 

But all of that was behind them now. Julian and Garak were settled into one of the Culat camps and had filed a form for special housing request at the University of Culat. The University was large, and sprawling, and a good portion of it had been destroyed during the war. But some parts of the campus remained. Most of the dormitories were still in tact. They would have been overrun by people flocking to them to get away from the flimsy tent camps and shacks that were littered all around Cardassia had the government not regulated the use of this more permanent housing. Bamarren Institute was still standing too and it was regulated much the same. Certain government officials were housed there, and priority was given to pregnant mothers and their families, since repopulating Cardassia was essential after the loss of hundreds of millions of people due to the war and its aftermath.

An interviewer had been sent to follow up on Garak and Julian's housing request form but when someone had been sent to visit them to verify that Garak was indeed pregnant, things had gotten a bit dicey. There was confusion of Garak's gender and the fact that he was pregnant, and then Julian had almost stated that he was the father—that was until the interviewer had read off the name that Garak had listed on the form as fathering the child—Kelas Parmak. 

The interviewer had given them the news that Parmak was already housed in one of the Culat dormitories since he was the main physician attending to the mothers who lived there and that it would be more efficient to simply move in with him. It wasn't really a question, it was and order, and with a swipe of his finger the interviewer had sent a message to Kelas Parmak that Elim Garak and his human would be moving in with him. 

“Why would you list Kelas Parmak as the father of your child?” Julian asked as he packed up the last of their meager possessions. The interviewer had left them hours earlier and they'd decided to uproot and head to Kelas' dorm room as soon as possible.

“You are aware of how xenophobic Cardassians tend to be,” Garak said.

“Ah... yes. They would have rejected our request had they known the child was fathered by a human,” Julian said.

“Most likely,” Garak said, “Kelas will be in for quite the surprise when he receives that message.”

“He won't have any reason to believe he would be the father of your child, though... would he?” Julian's brows drew together at the question.

Garak just grinned at him with sparkling eyes.

“Garak!” Julian squawked.

Later in the day Julian and Garak found themselves in the dormitories. Julian knocked at the door with the correct number on it. To the right of the door was a little pad on the wall that probably worked by scanning a fingerprint or retina, but the screen was dark and cracked. Julian frowned. There was no answer to the door so he tried again, banging harder this time.

“You did say your friend is an elder. Does he have a hearing impairment?” Julian asked.

“I certainly do not,” came a soft, effeminate, voice from behind him. Julian spun around and regarded the person with wide eyes.

“I—I--I'm very sorry, ma'am,” he said, trying his best to fix his error with an added layer of politeness.

Garak and this person were both smiling at him in an odd way. 

“I suspect you're trying to enter the quarters of Kelas Parmak?” 

“Yes, do you know where he is? He should have expected us,” Julian said.

“I do,” the person said, “he is in fact right here,” the Cardassian gave Julian a polite bow of his head then moved in between himself and Garak to fiddle with the makeshift latches and locks that had been installed onto the door.

“Oh, oh—I'm so sorry, Mr. Parmak!” Julian glanced over to Garak who was grinning at him in amusement. Julian really should have known better than to assume someone's gender by the way they looked but he had done so and mistaken Parmak for a woman. 

He was smaller than Garak and smaller than most Cardassian males that Julian had seen—Dukat had been slender and built with a frame that wasn't as stocky and sturdy looking as most Cardassian men. But Parmak was smaller than that. Garak could have tucked him under his chin. His appearance could almost be called dainty: a long slender neck, narrow shoulders and chest, a small waist, and a bit of a curve to hips that became more obvious when shifted certain ways. Even his ridges and scales were smaller and more subtle. His hair wasn't worn in the typical male fashion either, though with such a lack of resources more men were wearing their hair longer simply because there wasn't much of a way to keep it trimmed. Even still Garak's hair was just now at the middle of his shoulder blades when he let it down. Parmak's beautiful silvery hair was woven into a braid that hung down his back and just barely swept the curve of his little bottom as he moved to undo the last lock on the door. Anyone could have assumed that he was a woman.

Parmak began to shove the door open, leaning into it and pushing it back into the wall pocket. With no electricity it had to be done manually. 

“I meant to be here earlier and have things tidied up a bit for you,” Parmak said as he moved into the small dorm room with a little spring in his step, “I hate to have an untidy place but I've been so busy lately I can barely manage to remember to sleep and feed myself! Make yourselves at home. It is so good to see you again, dear Elim, and Julian—I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to meet you, or to work with you, when I was still at the Cardassia City camp.”

Parmak lifted his hand palm out to Garak, and Garak pressed his palm to Parmak's smaller one briefly. Garak inclined his head.

“I should have introduced the two of you before,” Garak said, “but... we were all a bit distracted.”

“Yes, well, we'll certainly be seeing a lot of each other now!” Parmak said, “Julian, put your things over there in the corner, there's space. There's a pile of blankets if you need more. There are rations if you're hungry, and some water—I was so surprised when the State sent me this notification I must admit! It has listed you as 'breeding'.”

Julian gave a small smile at the way the doctor was fussing over Garak and asking him an array of questions regarding his pregnancy. He sat their bags with their few possessions down in the designated corner and just watched for a few moments. It was obvious to him that there was more between Garak and Parmak than mere acquaintances. There had been the palm touching, for one thing. It was more brief than the way he and Garak practiced the gesture but the placement of the fingers signified a closer connection than Garak was letting onto. Parmak was also referring to Garak as 'Elim' and Elim was referring to him as 'Kelas'. Lastly, the two of them were physically close, leaving almost no breadth of personal space between them as they conversed.

Julian approached them again but he refrained from inserting himself into the conversation until Parmak spoke to him again. Garak had lifted his tunic a bit to display his belly. Julian had been doing his best to try to keep Garak fed but they had had very little to rely on while they'd been traveling between camps. Parmak's hands were resting on Garak's lower abdomen, just above his chuva, where it was so slightly rounded. Above his belly were subtle outlines of Garak's transverse ribs which made Julian frown. Garak's color was off too, and his face was looking especially thin. Parmak must have been thinking the same thing. He scurried off towards a table and came back with some rations and insisted Garak sit down and eat.

“You could do with something too,” Parmak said, “are all humans so frail looking?”

Julian was a bit surprised—he'd never been called 'frail' before but he hadn't seen a mirror lately either. He supposed he must have looked a bit poor too. Really all three of them were too thin. Everyone on Cardassia was too thin. Still, Parmak seemed prone to fussing at his guests and brought some rations over for Julian too.

“I meant to tell you, dear,” Parmak said while Julian bit into one of the ration bars so generously given to him, “I wasn't offended that you mistook me for a woman. It certainly hasn't been the first time. I'm quite used to generating confusion over my gender. You'll find it takes a lot to ruffle my scales. I'm a very placid person... under most circumstances. And at my age I'm quite used to dealing with all sorts of reactions to my appearance. I find myself quite remarkable,” Parmak said, giving his hips a little sway. His eyes twinkled brightly with little lines and creases crinkling around them as he smiled.

“He's a very modest creature,” Garak said, his eyes sparkling at his friend.

“Quite modest,” Parmak said, “really... how silly. Why should I be modest? I'm very fond of myself. Who else better to delight in all my lovely little quirks and curves? Not everyone can appreciate a man with a spare 'x' chromosome. I am a rarity, my dears.”

“A treasure to be sure,” Garak said, with sarcasm.

“Dr. Parmak,” Julian said, “I know you're not the sort of doctor who deals with the plague, but you must be interested—and I'm certainly brimming over with questions—are the doctors here in Culat making any progress? It does seem that Culat is a bit better off than the other areas we've seen. You must have more medical supplies available to you.”

Kelas nodded grimly.

“Of course I'm interested in finding a cure. I've lost many mothers to the plague,” the doctor said. His hand went to his glasses and shifted them a bit, “last month was the worst loss yet for our area. I lost over twenty breeding women to the plague. There are some under my care now who are still fighting it—in isolation. It is devastating.”

“But you haven't contracted it,” Julian noted with some eagerness, leaning forward, and attempting not to eye the other doctor like he was some sort of specimen.

“No, I haven't. Though I must admit I've had a couple of scares when I thought I might be coming down with it,” Kelas said.

“Would you mind if I take a sample reading of your body chemistry, and a hemoscan?”

“Be my guest,” Kelas said.

After the three had finished their meager meals Kelas offered to show them around campus. He apologized that it was mostly debris and rubble but at least the gardens remained intact. They found Ekou curled up there in a patch of mekla vines and edosian orchids surrounding his massive head like a crown. Garak smiled and bent to pat the hound's ridged jaw and then slid his fingers fondly over one of the orchid petals.

“My... father made trips to Culat to tend these gardens,” Garak said, “these orchids were something of a specialty for him. At the risk of sounding sentimental—I'm quite glad that some of them have survived. Perhaps I can nurture more of them into growing if this great beast doesn't crush them,” Garak said, “I do have a special fondness for them.”

Kelas knelt too.

“They are lovely,” he said, “years ago when my room mate from University gave me a tour of the campus we stopped here at the garden and it was these flowers that caught my eye. I thought they were quite special then, though I couldn't say why. Maybe I know now,” the doctor said quietly.

He and Garak shared a meaningful look, eyes glittering, while Julian stood aside rocking awkwardly on his feet. He had noticed that Cardassians tended to ignore personal space as a rule, but it seemed to him that Garak and Parmak were more affectionate with one another than he had expected. 

“Shall we see the beach?” Kelas asked, standing up slowly with creaking knees, “it used to be something of a tourist attraction. Dune sledding was quite popular and there's a long stretch of the beach that's rocky and just lovely for basking in the nude. It seems... rather self-indulgent to enjoy such things given the state of the Union now. But... if we don't allow ourselves to find happiness in the small things we can find, then we have no reason to move forward.”

Parmak offered his hand to Garak to help him up. Ekou gave a snort and rolled over to show his belly.

“What a lazy old thing,” Parmak chided.

“Me, or the hound?” Garak asked.

Parmak smirked.

“Do you want your belly scratched too?” Parmak teased.

Garak pushed his tummy out. Any trace of apprehension that Julian was feeling at watching Garak and Parmak interact melted away just then. Garak was carrying their child and Julian felt proud of that as he watched Kelas give Garak's clothed belly a bit of a rub.

“My scales are starting to itch something terrible,” Garak confessed.

“Maybe we could scrounge up some oil to rub them down with,” Julian suggested, “and think visiting the beach would be lovely. I always imagined that Cardassia was all endless dessert. Most of what I've seen of it would prove that vision to be correct.”

Julian had of course seen mountains in the distance but his conversation was more of an attempt to lead Parmak into talking more. If the doctor was anything like Garak then Julian knew that he would love a good conversation and Julian wanted to put his best foot forward and get along with their new room mate. Parmak might have had a much softer speaking voice than Garak, and at times he appeared very thoughtful, and almost timid. But Julian had been right in thinking that he would enjoy the conversation.

Parmak launched into a conversation about Cardassia's various regions and climates and spoke of the nearby Ba'aten Peninsula in Morfan Province where it jutted into the Morfan Sea. Parmak explained that this was the only spot on Cardassia where the ancient rainforests had survived after the dynamic climate change had struck the planet and left the majority of Cardassia covered in unforgiving deserts. Julian perked up at this and exclaimed that he'd love to visit that place someday. Garak recalled having visited it as a child and with a great wave of nostalgia that made Garak's face grow warm, and soft, and even surprised Julian—Garak launched into the story of his visit. Julian couldn't help but enjoy the way Garak looked so radiant just then as they walked along the sweeping red dunes with the sea wind sifting through their hair. Despite Garak's fervent denials Julian had realized him to be a man of sentiment though he did do a great deal to try and keep that part of himself under wraps. Julian wasn't sure if it was the pregnancy, the state of Cardassia, or Garak's recent near-death brush that was bringing this trait out in his Cardassian lover more strongly than before. But whatever the reason was for it, Julian enjoyed it.

The three of them crawled down the opposite face of the dunes and the desert began to flatten out into a beach. At the shoreline the sand became hard packed and glistened where the sea met it and swept foamy fingers along the coast. Further down Julian could spot the rocks that Parmak had spoken of so fondly. Julian took his sandals off and Garak and Parmak followed his lead. Once they had all cuffed their pants up they walked along the beach in a little line with Parmak in the lead. He may have been the eldest in the group but he had a perky little spring in his step which Julian enjoyed watching as they moved along and the foamy surf licked warmly at their feet. 

Now and then Julian would stop to examine a shell, a plant that had washed up, or something interesting along the beach. He found a sea-serpent swimming in a shallow little pool left in an indent of sand and was amazed at the beauty of the iridescent scales as they caught the light sparkling down through the little pool. Garak was happy to report that the sea-serpent was non-venomous and he even bent down and lifted it out of the water so Julian could stroke the smooth scales. The snake curled wetly around Garak's wrist leaving a dark little splotch on his sleeve. They let it go at the edge of the sea so it wouldn't be trapped in the shallow pool until the tide came in again.

Parmak lead them along to the rocks and climbed up on some of them and abruptly began to strip. He flung his tunic down onto a dry spot and turned to face the other two with his small hands resting atop the gentle curves of his hips.

“I suggest we bask for a few moments,” he said, “the warmth will feel nice on your scales, my dear Elim. Julian... will your delicate skin burn under our sun?” the doctor came forward and lifted Julian's hand to examine the back of it.

“It could,” Julian admitted, “but it's not midday so the sun will be less intense, and my ancestors were desert people, so we're a bit sturdier than some other humans are. I think I'll be fine for a short bask.”

“How delightful!” Kelas clapped his hands together and tugged his boots and pants off next with absolutely no shame regarding his nudity. He was quite petite for a Cardassian, with a lithe little body, and narrow shoulders. The Cardassian doctor did a few stretches while Garak and Julian stripped too.

Garak sighed as he laid himself out on his belly on one of the rocks. Julian lowered himself down on one side of Garak, while Parmak spread out on the other side, with his smooth underside vulnerable and facing the sky. Julian was struck for a moment by how lovely the doctor looked like that—but he shook his head and nuzzled closer to Garak. Julian slipped his arm around his lover's back and already he could feel the thick armored scales warming beneath the sun.

“Oooh,” Garak groaned, “my scales are so very itchy,” he gave a little wiggle to scratch his smooth belly against the rock. 

“A good exfoliating scrub would do wonders,” Kelas said, “I'm not sure I have a rubbing stone, though. I might be able to find one.”

“Ohh—yesss,” Garak hissed, “that would be so lovely. But we mustn't be greedy for such luxuries.”

Julian was trying his best to scratch Garak's back with his fingers but if anything that only seemed to be irritating Garak further. The large scales along the back of his neck and back seemed tougher than usual and Julian's scratching probably didn't feel like much.

“Try this,” Parmak said, handing a bumpy shell to Julian, and taking a stone in his own hand, the two doctors began to rub their little tools over Garak's scaly back. The sounds Garak made in response were deep and grumbling with pleasure. “They're beautiful scales, dear,” Kelas cooed to Garak as he and Julian pampered him with their attentions.

Garak's toes curled in delight. After a few moments of this Julian and Parmak realized that the warmth and the scratching had put Garak to sleep. Julian and Parmak reached for Garak's head at the same time and threaded their fingers through the slick black hair affectionately. Parmak drew his hand back suddenly.

“My apologies,” he said, tilting his head in a little bow at Julian.

Julian wasn't certain how to respond so he just gave a little nod back. He and Kelas continued to bask quietly until Garak roused from his nap. Garak sat up on his knees and gave a lazy stretch and a big yawn. Julian chuckled.

“That must have been a very nice nap,” he said, glancing down at the space between Garak's spread legs where his slit was slightly nudged open by the head of his prUt.

“So it was,” Garak said.

“I think I'll have a little swim before we head back,” Parmak said. He got to his feet and excused himself. Julian watched him pad down to the beach with his hips swaying in a rather lovely way. He turned back to Garak and slid two fingers along his slit stopping before touching the wet pink head. 

“Ooh,” Garak hummed, shifting his hips forward, “please touch it, my dear. Breeding Cardassians grow sluggish, and horny, and I'm feeling too lazy to pleasure myself.”

Julian grinned.

“Well far be it from me to deny you your pleasure,” he said. Julian urged Garak to lay out on his back and he spread Garak's soft thighs and positioned himself in between. He loved the way the little scales along Garak's genital slit grew darker and bluish as Julian leaned close to it and let his hot breath puff out against the peeking, glistening, head. 

He swept his tongue out over the little protrusion and began to lick and lap at it sliding his tongue into the slit and probing as deeply as he could. Garak's back arched and his hands gripping Julian's hair as he cried out with pleasure. Julian sucked the head into his mouth again swirling his tongue all around it. Garak everted suddenly as his prUt was unexpectedly filling Julian's mouth and throat. Julian made a small choking noise around it as he worked to relax his throat. Garak rolled his head from side to side in pleasure and raked his short claws through Julian's hair. 

Julian loved to suck Garak's dick and he kept taking it deep into his throat and pressing his fingers into Garak's genital slit at the base of his prUt where that hidden vestigal vagina was. Garak cried and moaned and came filling Julian's mouth and throat with so much seed that Julian could hardly take it all—he had also always loved how messy Cardassians were when they came. Garak's body was tremlbing beneath him. He was still rolling his head and Julian noticed that he was weeping from the intensity of his orgasm. He swallowed Garak's load and leaned forward to slide his fingertips gently through a little trail of tears.

“I've never made you do that before,” Julian said with pride as a smirk played around his mouth and drew out his dimples.

“I should say not,” Garak said in a quiet, quivery, voice, “I don't want to move at all now.”

Julian stroked his palm over Garak's sensitive chuva which made Garak twist and cry out a little, then up over the slight curve of his tummy.

“If we had proper amounts of food, I'm sure your belly would get nice and round, wouldn't it?” Julian said.

“Most likely,” Garak said, “I've worked hard over the years to keep myself in shape but I do come from a family of larger people and... I've been rather ravenous lately,” Garak admitted, “but I won't have anyone feeding me extra food when the both of you need it just as much as I do. You and Kelas are far too thin.”

“So are you,” Julian said.

Garak gave a dismissive snort.

“That is life on Cardassia at the present moment.”

Julian rubbed his belly gently.

“You've mentioned several times before how important food is in Cardassian culture. I really would love to feed you sometime, and I don't care what you think, it is important that you have more of it than Kelas and I do. You're carrying our egg.”

“And the egg will take nutrition from my body if--”

“That's not healthy--” Julian interjected.

“We can't live beyond our meager means,” Garak stated.

Julian sighed. He knew it was truth and truth was not something that Garak spoke of very often. Julian glanced down towards the shore where Kelas was still swimming in the foamy water.

“Should we join your dear friend for a dip before we head back?” Julian suggested. He pressed on Garak's belly a bit more firmly to see if he could feel the egg in his lower abdomen.

“Yes—stop doing that. You'll have me all worked up again,” Garak said, gripping Julian's hand.

“Oh, I didn't know it aroused you to have your belly touched,” Julian gave Garak a wicked little smile.

“It doesn't usually—but my chuva is so sensitive I think it might be making the surrounding areas sensitive too. Just—don't touch me like that right now unless you plan to fuck me this time,” Garak said, spreading his legs a bit.

“Later,” Julian said, “if your friend doesn't mind us being adventurous in his home.”

“Kelas? Certainly not,” Garak said, finally sitting up. Julian stood and helped Garak to his feet, “if I know my friend at all I would say he'd be quite happy to watch us, or to join in.”

Julian quirked an eyebrow.

“An interesting bit of information,” Julian said. He kept a hold of Garak's hand and lead him down off the rocks and over the warm sandy beach and into the surf.

“You've decided to join me!” Kelas said, splashing some water at the other two.

“I'm only staying in the shallows,” Garak said, “after a recent adventure during a particularly fierce storm I think I prefer to keep my head well above the water.”

Julian gave a knowing nod. He let go of Garak's hand leaving him to sit at the water's edge with his feet in the foam while he ventured in a bit deeper with Kelas.

The mood was surprisingly light as the three of them made their way back to their living quarters. Kelas and Julian stripped their clothing as soon as they were inside, having worn them home without properly drying, they were now damp and salty. Parmak seemed not to mind parading around in the nude and seemed intent to do so while Julian hunted up his other set of clothing. The mood didn't last long, though. Suddenly a hammering came to the door and Parmak scrambled to answer it.

“Julian!” Kelas called to the other doctor, “one of my plague patients has gone into labor. Come, assist me. This will be difficult.”

Julian sprang into doctor-mode right off. Garak was hovering nearby but bowed out to let the other men go. He wouldn't be of any use to them and Kelas and Julian hurried out of the dorm. Kelas was practically running and Julian followed him with long strides until they reached the isolation ward. Kelas fitted a flimsy paper mask over his nose and mouth and handed one off to Julian too, along with a pair of gloves, and a stop at sonic wash station that was set up on crate outside the isolation room. After running their hands under the sonic wash and gloving up, Kelas entered the room with Julian following on his heels.

Kelas lead him past several women who were in various stages of the plague. They reached one at the back of the room. She was laying down on the floor in what looked like a nest of debris. Kelas knelt next to her, and so did Julian. She was naked; it looked as though she had torn her clothing off and used them to make her nest softer. Her scales were missing in spots, her ridges swollen, and seeping puss in various areas. Her breath was coming in great rattling whoops and one of her eyes was glued togeher with thick greenish ooze.

“Cota,” Kelas said to her in a gentle voice, petting a bit of her slick black hair back from her face, “I'm here, dear. We're going to get you through this lay,” he said. Julian wasn't so certain, judging by the way her chest was heaving. 

Cota nodded.

“Do you have the strength to get up on your hands and knees?” Kelas asked, continuing to stroke Cota's brow gently. Julian wondered briefly where the father of the child was, but then he realized it was likely he was dead, so he said nothing, just waited for Parmak's instruction.

Parmak and Julian helped Cota to get onto her hands and knees. As soon as she was in position a great wave of hacking coughs wracked her body. Thick greenish mucus laced with threads of dark blood hung from her lips and dripped from her nose. She trembled and cried out as the pain of a contraction hit her. 

Parmak settled down behind Cota and urged Julian to sit beside him to help. Kelas urged Cota to spread her legs wider so they could exam her ajan. A foul and pungent odor came from her and had Julian not been a physician used to dealing with all sorts of awful smells, he might have gagged at it, but he maintained his composure. Cota's ajan was swollen and it was leaking the same thick, greenish-bloody mucus, as was coming from her nose and lungs. 

“It's affecting all mucus membranes,” Julian muttered, as Parmak tried to work his hand into Cota's ajan.

“It doesn't want to open—the mucus is thick—it's acting almost as an adhesive,” Parmak said.

He removed a couple of packets from a pocket and opened one of them. It was some sort of wet, sanitizing, towel and Parmak used it to try to clean enough of the heavy goop off of Cota's ajan for it to be able to open. The woman cried out in pain and Parmak kept speaking to her in his gentle voice, trying his best to calm her. 

When she was cleaner Kelas tried again.

“It's still full of the puss-mucus inside,” he said, slowly working his hand in, cringing as Cota screamed and sobbed.

“Isn't there anything we can give her for the pain?” Julian asked, practically begging. Kelas shook his head a somber 'no'.

Julian was doing his best to stay professional but as Cota continued to scream, and Parmak's face drained pale, obviously upset by the situation, Julian could only think of Garak. Garak contracting the plague and trying to deliver their child through it. Garak screaming out and nothing that Julian could do to relieve his pain. 

“Oh, oh there's the egg, dear,” Parmak said at last. His slender arm was inside of Cota halfway to his elbow, “it's in a good position—can you push? I know you're very tired, and you don't feel well, but... there's no other way. Unless... Cota, do you still want to lay?”

Cota thrashed her head and coughed off up more of the terrible junk. Her lips were smeared dark with blood.

“If I'm going to die, then I'm going to die bringing my child...” she wheezed, “into this world... for a new Cardassia.”

Julian watched her squeeze her core muscles and cry out and tremble with the effort. He stroked her back gently, his gloved hand sliding over the thick and layered back scales, avoiding the ones that were irritated, or missing, or draining puss. The terrible labor seemed to last on, and on.

“It's coming, it's coming, you're doing so well, dear!” Parmak encouraged.

Parmak slid his hand out of Cota's ajan with a sickly squelching noise and suddenly the egg dropped out of her along with a reeking glop of puss, blood, and chunks. Parmak's hands were trembling as he dug the egg out of the mess. Julian was having a much harder time not gagging—barely avoiding it. Cota was clinging to him and sobbing, hacking, spewing blood onto Julian's tunic.

Parmak sat the egg aside and began to tend to Cota.

“She's aspirating,” Julian said, as the woman began to choke and gasp after a particularly terrible bought of coughing. Parmak's hands were still covered in the muck that had come out of her ajan so it was up to Julian to try to help—he swept his fingers into Cota's mouth to see if he could dislodge anything and got out slimy glob and some clotted blood, but she was still choking. He banging her on the back a few times but it wasn't working. She began to writhe and twitch.

“She's seizing! Julian cried.

Parmak was tearing his gloves off. 

Cota went still all of a sudden.

“She's not breathing!” Julian cried, but before he could act, Parmak had torn his mask off too and he pressed his mouth to Cota's, forcing air into her lungs. Julian got into place to help with the CPR—though he wasn't certain how to do it on Cardassians, doing it the human way would be better than nothing at all, and it was his training kicking in and putting him into autopilot. He found the pit just below Cota's sternum and pressed with his fisted hands, counting off each thrust as Parmak pressed his fingers to the artery at Cota's neck to check her pulse. They tried for some time but eventually it was apparent to both me that Cota was gone.

“Is there any way to shock her heart?” Julian asked.

“We don't have the proper equipment,” Kelas sighed, sitting back on his heels, his paper mask dangling from one ridges ear like a broken door hung ajar. His lips and chin were covered with blood and slime.

“Kelas...” Julian said, as the other doctor spat, “you're... you're very likely to contract the plague.”

“I wasn't thinking—just acting. But I haven't contracted it yet, have I? I'll... I'll have to be isolated, though. I'll risk spreading it to Elim. You'll probably be fine so long as you decontaminate. You've kept yourself more protected than I have.”

Julian's stomach lurched. It was a wonder Garak hadn't contracted the plague already—Julian had worked with the victims and come home to Garak night after night, and they'd touched, and slept in close quarters, and Garak had nearly drowned in the water with all of those bodies dead to the plague. The contaminated water had gone into his lungs. Julian considered that he should have tested Garak for the plague when he'd taken samples from Parmak earlier—but he hadn't. He told himself that Garak wouldn't let him do it, knowing how stubborn the other man was, but really Julian was afraid.

“How long will you need to stay in isolation?” Julian asked.

“A week, at least,” Kelas said.

“Who will tend to the other breeding women?” Julian asked.

“I have an assistant—not formally trained, but I've been working on him. A good boy. Prelam Dukat--” 

“Dukat!” Julian exclaimed.

“And I'd like you to work with him, if you wouldn't mind helping. These women are all very important to me, and I need to see that they are tended to,” Parmak said.

Julian nodded.

“At least the egg has survived,” Julian said.

“Yes, let's have a look at it,” Parmak said, “it'll need to be incubated. I suppose I can lay with it while I'm in isolation.”

Julian lifted the egg since Parmak didn't have his gloves on anymore. 

“Oh... dear,” Parmak said, “that's not a good sign. The outer membrane is malformed, and it's all cloudy, and bloody, inside instead of being translucent. It looks like the plague has been passed to the hatchling,” Parmak said.

“Do we... terminate it, then?” Julian asked.

Parmak stared long and hard at the egg.

“No,” he said, “this hasn't happened before. I don't... I'm not sure... I think I should lay with it during my isolation. It should hatch by that time. If it doesn't... then it's very likely not going to hatch at all, and we will dispose of it.”

“And what of Cota?” Julian asked.

“She has a sister,” Parmak said, “a sister who has been praying for her diligently. She'll want to preform the Hebitian death ritual.”

At Parmak's request Julian found Cota's sister, Nima, and gave her the news of her sisters passing. Nima was a small, round, woman, who eyed Julian with great suspicion. But after a few moments she asked:

“And you were with Cota when she died?” Nima curled her lip into a snarl.

“I was,” Julian said, “and I'm very sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am. You're a terran but the ritual requires you to be there if you were with her at death,” Nima said.

Julian was remembering how Garak had told him there was very little left of the old Hebitian ways and Julian wondered how it was that this particular tradition had survived, but he didn't say anything. It certainly wasn't the time for him to assert his curiosity over common decency. 

Julian found himself on the beach yet again, but this time he wasn't paying attention to Garak while his mate sunbathed, or splashing in the surf with Parmak. Julian was staying to a distance while Nima placed her sister's body onto a pile of stones and lit a fire to offer her back to the Mother. Julian was briefly concerned about Nima inhaling the smoke—could it carry the plague on it? But he didn't ask her to stop or give voice to his worries. Nima was kneeling in the silver sand, Cardassian black hair hanging at one side of her face in a curtain. She'd picked some flowers from the Culat garden and crushed their blue petals and had used the pigments to paint certain symbols onto her face and the backs of her hands. Julian watched the black smoke climb against the sky, over the bay, and past the moon. He thought of Parmak curled up with that egg in isolation, doing his best to keep it warm, even though he had no idea if he was nurturing life, or just more death.

What if that was what was waiting inside of Garak? Even if Garak hadn't contracted the plague yet, even if he never did, could their egg—their child—still become contaminated with it?

Julian felt so very tired. He felt foolish for having spent such a frivolous day on the beach in the face of everything that was happening around them. Parmak seemed to think that they still needed to enjoy themselves when the could find the opportunity, and Julian would have agreed at one point in his life, but a war later and he was a harder man than he had been before. He had grown up and his boyish smile did not curve his lips as easily as it once had. The rootbeer foam at the top of the Federation mug had been scraped away. The drink had gone flat for him. 

Julian turned away from the funeral pyre and climbed the dunes to head back to the dormitory.

A week later Julian had learned quite a bit about Cardassian pregnancy, and laying, and birth. It was also time to check up on Parmak, so Julian made his way to the isolation room, and entered.

He found Parmak curled up on himself in a little ball, his hands buried in his hair, clutching his head. The egg sac was nearby and laying in a thick puddle of half-dried puss and blood fluid.

“Kelas...” Julian said gently, kneeling near the other doctor, “where's the hatchilng?”

Kelas unfolded himself a bit, and looked up to Julian with haunted eyes.

“I killed it, dear,” Kelas said in a whisper, “it was suffering. It was suffering!”  
“Then you did the right thing,” Julian said gently.

He used a tricorder to scan Parmak, and finding no traces of the plague in him, he helped the doctor to his feet.

“It was suffering—a child shouldn't be born just to suffer,” Parmak said, trembling, leaning onto Julian, “I tried to hold it. I tried to keep it warm—it needed—to know some comfort before--”

“You did what needed to be done,” Julian said. He knew it sounded cold, but he thought it also sounded Cardassian, and that maybe this would ring true for Parmak, who seemed more gentle than most.

Parmak gave a great sigh. He nodded his head.

“You'll feel better about it once you're out of isolation, and back to the routine of things,” Julian said.

But he was really feeling dark inside—what if none of them ever felt the same again after all this bad had happened? And how would they ever return to a life that was blissfully 'routine'? Julian shut his eyes briefly. He needed to keep himself together. He drew up his determination—determination to comfort Parmak as Julian walked him back to their dorm, determination to find a cure for the plague, and determination to help Garak and their hatchling.

Parmak was quite distant and detached for the rest of the day. A great heaviness had settled over all three of them. Surely this could have not been the first time in his years of practice that Parmak had lost a mother, or a hatchling, but this seemed to be affecting him greatly. As night came and cast shadows over the room Kelas curled up in a corner and Julian rested his head against Garak's chest. He liked the position but it was also a sneaky thing to do—he was still keeping watch to make sure that Garak didn't develop and upper respiratory illness after choking down that rain water. Julian's enhanced hearing came in handy in this way and he could just listen and focus in on Garak's breathing by resting his head on his chest. He could hear some fluid inside but Garak had showed no signs of coughing or feeling ill so Julian hoped it would clear up without incident. 

“Garak,” Julian whispered, trailing his fingers through the Cardassian's hair. It was growing quite long and curly and now it was gritty from sand and saltwater. Garak had made a habit of going to the beach each night for a walk. “Are you certain... that you want to keep this child?” Julian whispered.

Garak nodded subtly.

“I intend to see this through,” Garak said.

Julian squeezed his hand.

After a few moments Kelas padded over to them and hovered nearby, looking small, and lost.

“Come here, dear,” Garak said, lifting the blankets, and opening a pocket for Parmak to crawl into.

“You'll feel better in the morning,” Julian said. He recognized that Parmak was still in shock but sleeping was probably a good way to overcome it. Eventually his Cardassian way of thinking would click into place, and Parmak would file this away in his memory system as something that had happened, and didn't need to be dwelt upon, or revisited. At least that was how Garak seemed to deal with trauma, from Julian's experience. He curled a bit closer to Garak and listened to his breathing, and to Parmak's, as both of them gave in to sleep.

The floor was hard and gave Julian little comfort, but there was some comfort in being together, and pulling through. Julian closed his eyes and thought of the smoke rising from Cota's body, drifting against a starry sky, and he wondered if Cardassians believed in reincarnations, in new beginnings; if there was any time that hope for a new beginning was needed, then it was now. 

The smoke drifted on, and Julian slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things of note: Since I first started this story my hc for the way the Cardassian prUt looks/is set up has changed. Now I can't imagine it any other way. The way I describe it in this chapter is in accordance with that. However I had described it differently in earlier chapters of this story. Sorry for the inconsistencies but I just can't think of it as the 'old way' anymore. At some point I will be good and go back to my earlier chapters and change my descriptions of the prUt back there to match the ones that are used in this chapter and going forth.
> 
> Second note: Shameless plug. A certain person appears in this chapter and so I am shamelessy plugging his backstory which I have been pouring a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into lately. If you like Kelas or are interested come read some more about him in my story "A Rare Rain". I would be delighted to have any more interest and/or comments on this story. Thanks all. :)
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8822437/chapters/20228236


End file.
